Ancient Fading Lines
by rubertgiles
Summary: During the final battle of Hogwarts, Hermione experiences a mishap with a time turner and is flung twenty years into the past. Initially hopeful for a speedy return, she finds herself growing increasingly reluctant to leave the world of the Marauders. [HG/RL with background JP/LE]
1. Arrival

With all of the spells flying about the Great Hall, Hermione hardly notices when one of them collides with the time turner that hangs from her neck. Under any other circumstances, she would drop everything and run to make sure that nothing is wrong with it, that it's still functioning properly. As it is, however, she doesn't notice, so she doesn't run to make sure that nothing is wrong.

In the chaos, she does not notice the time turner, but she does see Ron and Ginny, on the far side of the hall. They are fighting opposite two death eaters—one of whom she recognizes from their invasion of Hogwarts last year—and they look to be losing.

As she watches, a curse hits Ginny square in the chest and knocks her backward. She lands on her back and doesn't stir. Ron follows this movement with his eyes wide, his jaw slack, and promptly turns back to the two death eaters with renewed anger, firing curses at the both of them which they easily deflect.

Disregarding everything, Hermione begins to run toward Ron. A curse whistles past her ear, but it in no way fazes her.

A hand reaches out and grabs her, gripping her arm and holding tight. "Hermione."

She meets Remus' gaze. He is staring straight at her, but she feels as though he isn't even seeing her, not really. "Not now Remus, I'm trying to—"

"No, Hermione, listen to me. I think something—" His eyes fall to the time turner. "Why've you got that?"

"I've been using it for my classes. Remus, I need to go help Ron, I'm sorry!" Hermione wrenches her arm out of his grasp, running again.

Remus calls after her, "Be careful! Don't use your—" His voice is drowned out by the shouts, tuned out because she's so intent on reaching Ron as the death eaters are backing him into a corner.

Bellatrix appears directly in front of her, eyes shining and a wild grin on her face. "Running away, are we?"

Hermione looks past Bellatrix in desperation but cannot flee. She lets out a forced laugh. "Never."

"That's a good girl." She shoots a blast of red light Hermione's way, so quickly that she only barely has time to cast a shield charm. Attacking again and again, and Hermione can still see Ron struggling, still see Ginny on the floor, and in the blink of an eye she loses all patience for this. She looks down at the time turner and, before she can lose her resolve, she grabs it and dodges out of the way of another curse, giving it two turns as she moves. If she can't help Ron this time, she'll just have to go back and go through this all again.

She trips, and as she falls toward the floor, everything fades to black. Bellatrix shouts after her, and everything fades to black.

* * *

"—reckon she ended up here?"

"That's what everyone's wondering, isn't it? Dumbledore's certainly eager to hear her side of the story."

Hermione feels like she just fell from the top of the North Tower, and even as she slowly regains consciousness, she is under the distinct impression that the pain accompanying any sort of movement will be overwhelming. She will delay it, she thinks, for as long as possible.

It appears, unfortunately, that she has little choice in the matter. The voices around her quiet, and someone whispers, "Is it just me, or—"

"I think she's awake."

The room falls silent, and the anticipation in the air is palpable as Hermione opens her eyes at last.

"Harry!"

She realizes her mistake almost as soon as the word leaves her mouth, but the boy standing above her frowns. "Harry who?"

"N-never mind, you just… you look like someone I know." Because Harry's eyes are green, and this boy's are brown. Besides that, though, the resemblance really is remarkable.

Even from Hermione's limited vantage point, she feels almost certain that she's lying in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. The boy who looks like Harry is not the only person at her bedside—a bit behind him is a second boy, and on her other side is another who looks far more battered and tired than the first two. He also happens to be looking down at Hermione with the most concern apparent in his eyes; the other two boys are clearly just curious.

What have they got to be curious about?

"Did you hear that, Prongs? The girl lying under you called out someone else's name." Prongs?

The Harry doppelganger elbows the boy beside him. "Shut it, Padfoot."

Hermione bolts up into a sitting position, an action she regrets immediately when pain shoots through her upper body. She looks between the three boys with wide eyes, all of whom have jumped back a foot or two and are regarding her with some suspicion. "Oh, I _am_ dense."

"And I'm Sirius."

Yes. Yes he is. Hermione is disgusted with herself for not realizing any sooner: James Potter and Sirius Black are sitting at her bedside, which means that the third boy—she looks at him, and he gives her a hesitant smile. "Remus?"

The smile fades immediately. "How d'you know my name?"

Everything about this makes no sense, or at least that is what Hermione feels inclined to believe. There are no documented cases of a time turner ever doing anything like this, so how could it be possible? She's dreaming, most likely. Perhaps in a coma—do wizards ever go into comas? She knows muggles can have coma-induced dreams that feel like real life, so maybe that's what's happened to her.

Of course, she also knows that she isn't in a coma. She looks Sirius, James and Remus up and down. They've got to be, what, in their sixth or seventh year?

Instead of answering Remus' question, she asks, "Why am I in the hospital wing?"

"We found you in the Great Hall," James replies immediately. "Or Moony did, that is, when he was on patrol." He looks at Remus apologetically.

"You looked a mess," Remus informs her. Hermione briefly considers the irony of Remus telling her this, and judging by the way James and Sirius snicker, they're thinking along the same lines. "You were bloody, scratched up, had a broken arm… That was three days ago."

Three days. Hermione had been in the wrong time for three days. She wonders how Ron had fared (how Ron _will_ fare—strange concept) and wonders how long it took—will take—for people to notice that she was, is, will be missing.

"I need to get back," she mutters.

"What?"

She looks up at Remus, a determined look on her face. "I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"Alright… Now? Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Of course I—" Hermione attempts to swing her legs over to the side of the bed, an action which sends another jolt of pain running through her. Immediately, she rethinks the situation and settles back. "Could he maybe come here?"

Remus suppresses a smile. "I think that could be arranged."

"Thank you." She settles back against the wall with a sigh. Remus, Sirius and James continue to stare at her, as though they're waiting for something to happen. "I don't think Dumbledore's going to fetch himself," she snaps.

The boys have some sort of unspoken argument, and finally Remus gets up with a grunt, muttering to himself as he makes his way to the door. "He'll be back in a flash," Sirius says with a grin.

"I think you have Moony a bit shaken." James' eyes twinkle from behind his glasses. "No mysterious girl has ever shown up in the Great Hall, woken up, and known his name before he introduced himself."

"Really? I assumed it was an everyday occurrence at Hogwarts," Hermione says dryly. As curious as she is to get to know Harry's father and his friends, she knows that it could be dangerous. She almost certainly should not have let slip that she knows Remus, because if this is any indication, they're not going to let the subject drop, no matter how clear she makes it that she won't be giving them any answers.

But they both laugh and seem to take the hint—for the moment, at least. "You're funny. I hope Dumbledore lets you stick around."

* * *

Harry is the first one to voice the question, though certainly not the first one to ponder it. "Has anyone seen Hermione?"

No. Not for hours.

They wonder if her body will be among those that they find scattered across the grounds or within the castle, and when it is not, they don't know whether or not they should be relieved.

"Y-you don't think she left?" Ron means _ran away_ , and they all know it.

For the first time, Remus speaks up. "Not intentionally."

Dozens of pairs of eyes fall on him. "What do you mean?" Arthur asks.

"She's gone and if I'm right then I'm… I'm fairly certain she won't be coming back."

* * *

When Remus returns, Dumbledore is with him. Though Hermione has been attempting to prepare herself mentally, the sight of him living and breathing once again is a bit of a shock to her system (the entire experience is a bit of a shock to her system, of course). What she perhaps finds the most starling, however, is not the fact that he is still alive. Remus, James, and Sirius are just teenagers—the Remus and Sirius that she encountered had clearly aged. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as he did on Hermione's first day at Hogwarts.

When he reaches her, the three boys fall back, watching from a respectable distance. Hoping to glean some information about this mysterious girl, no doubt, so that they can spread it around to the rest of the school.

Dumbledore smiles at her. A reserved smile. "It's good to see that you're awake, Miss… what may I call you?"

"Oh. Granger. Miss Granger." She glances at the three boys, and lowers her voice. "Could we talk alone for a moment, Professor?"

"Mr. Lupin, Mr. Potter—"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. We're going." Sirius rolls his eyes and they turn away. Moving slowly, very slowly. Hoping to hear something else interesting.

But Dumbledore waits until they've left. "Now. Miss Granger, did you say it was?"

"Yes."

"I pride myself in being headmaster of one of the most highly-protected establishments in the wizarding world. Therefore, I am certain you understand my bewilderment when I say that I cannot comprehend how you came to be in the Great Hall of Hogwarts in the middle of the night."

Hermione chuckles darkly. "I don't think I quite understand it myself."

"That does create some problems."

"This might be a strange question, Professor, but what year is it?"

Dumbledore doesn't seem to find the question anywhere near as strange as she expects him to. "1977."

Twenty years. Hermione traveled twenty years into the past. She was not aware that such a malfunction was even possible. From all of her research, she had learned that time turners were specifically engineered to only send people a few days into the past at the most. Such a large jump should be impossible.

For the first time, she thinks of the time turner, and her hand flies to feel for it under her robes; it isn't there. She looks at Dumbledore helplessly.

"Are you looking for this?" He pulls the time turner out of the recesses of his own robes. "A curious object, I must say. Something that I've never encountered before. I had heard rumors about a secret project in the Department of Mysteries, developing a device that could travel through time, but as far as I knew they were nowhere near creating a fully-functioning… what do you call it?"

Hermione swallows. "It's a time turner."

"I see." He peers at her over his glasses. "Dare I direct our attention to the question hanging in the air, or shall we dance around the subject a while longer?"

"1998," she breathes.

Dumbledore sits down in the chair beside Hermione's bed and settles back, still examining her closely. "You expect me to believe that students—you are a student, yes?" Hermione nods. "That students are permitted to use devices that can send them twenty years into the past?"

She flushes. "I'm a bit of an exception. Some of my professors referred to me as the cleverest witch of my age." One of whom just left the room, Hermione wants to add. "And as far as I know, this should not have been possible. The time turner malfunctioned, or… or something. I don't know. There's no documented cases of this happening. But I was hoping that perhaps you might be able to help me figure out what went wrong so that I can get back."

"How do I know I can trust you?" he muses.

"I don't know."

"That's promising."

Hermione grimaces. "You trusted me when you knew me, Professor, so I doubt that I'll let you down now."

Dumbledore begins to smile, but his expression becomes grim almost immediately. "We meet in the future?"

"Well yes, of course, you're—"

He puts up a hand to silence her. "Miss Granger, this is very important. You cannot say a word to me about the future. If you are familiar with any of the students currently at school here at Hogwarts, you are not to speak with them. Or if you do, be cautious. If you are as exceptional as you claim to be, then I am sure I don't need to explain the potential havoc that could ensue, even unintentionally, from anything you might say or do."

"Yes, I do understand." She thinks of James, Sirius, and Remus, and their evident curiosity, and decides right then that it will be best to not speak with them at all.

"I will assist you in repairing your device—or, at least, I will attempt to assist you. I am perfectly willing to admit that even I don't know everything." He smiles slightly. "In the meantime, we must formulate a plausible reason for you to be here at Hogwarts. Students ask a lot of questions."

Hermione frowns. "Why can't I just become a student?"

"Today's date is February 17th. It's not particularly plausible to have a new student entering their seventh year of Hogwarts—"

"Oh. Yes, that makes sense. I wouldn't believe that either."

"I do, however, have an alternative that I might suggest."

"Yes?"

"Over Christmas break, we lost a librarian to an unfortunate incident while she was vacationing in Egypt. I have yet to find a replacement."

Her eyes light up. "You're asking me to work in the library?"

"A place you're fond of, I take it?"

"Fond of?" Hermione laughs. "I practically live there, according to Harry and—" She falters and notes that even a vague reference to her life doesn't seem to particularly please Dumbledore. "Yes. Yes I am. Yes, I'd love to. Please."


	2. The Librarian

Thanks to James, Remus and Sirius's presence in the hospital wing when she woke up, Hermione's name is well known throughout the castle within hours. When she arrives in the Great Hall for dinner, whispers follow her.

Almost immediately, her eyes land on James Potter and his friends sitting at the Gryffindor table, and for a moment she almost walks over to join them. But then she glances over at Dumbledore, and even with a great deal of distance between them, she can tell that he is watching her expectantly, perhaps trying to make sure that she doesn't slip up.

With her head held high, she instead takes an empty place at the staff table. It is only after she sits down that she realizes the seat beside her is occupied by Professor Slughorn, one of the few professors at the table whom she recognizes. It is because she is already familiar with him that she is initially bemused when he turns to her and says with a jovial grin, "Hello! I'm Horace Slughorn, potions master here at Hogwarts. I hear that Albus has selected you as our new librarian."

"Yes, he has. I'm Hermione Granger." He sticks out his right hand and she shakes it, doing everything she can to keep a smile on her face.

She begins to fill her plate. Meanwhile, Slughorn takes a bite of his food and asks his next question even as he's still chewing. "If you don't mind my saying so, you appear to be a bit young to be working as a staff member here at Hogwarts. I almost would expect you to be sitting among the students."

"I just finished my schooling at Beauxbatons last year." Hermione is astonished by how easily the lie comes out of her mouth, despite the fact that this was not a question for which she had prepared herself. "It was my parents' decision, not mine. Although my French is now exceptional, Hogwarts was my preference."

The professor on Slughorn's other side claims his attention, and Hermione is extremely grateful because now her focus can drift. She scans the hall, searching out familiar faces.

McGonagall sits beside Dumbledore, as she always has, although she looks to be considerably younger. The other staff members are entirely unrecognizable, and Hermione wonders what it is that tears them from their posts between now and when she will become a student. She is certain that for a fair number of them, it will probably be the war against Voldemort.

Sitting each of the house tables, though—there, she sees plenty of people she knows. She also sees boys and girls who are no doubt parents of her own peers. At the Slytherin table, Snape sits sullenly with a group of boys that Hermione knows will become death eaters.

And of course, with a single glance at the Gryffindor table she can find them: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Lily Evans sits on one side of James, and Sirius sits on the other. Remus and Peter are across from them. The five of them are smiling and laughing together, and the sight makes Hermione ache for her own friends.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, Remus looks away from his friends just in time to catch Hermione staring. He gives her a half-smile, gauging her reaction. Hesitantly, she smiles back.

It is going to be very hard, she thinks, to stay away from them. Because they remind her of her own friends. Because she is curious about them.

And, most importantly, because they are curious about her. If Remus and Sirius' stories are at all to be believed, she gets the impression that they will be relentless.

Many students begin to frequent the library that wouldn't have given the room a second thought before Hermione's arrival at Hogwarts. She is something of an enigma, and everyone is desperate to discover the truth about her. Even the staff discusses the matter to some degree; although they claim not to be privy to student gossip, they all find themselves intrigued by the speculation, and some of the professors even go as far as to offer up their own theories.

While she is aware that she's a topic of conversation, Hermione does her best to ignore the gossip. It is partially because she doesn't like being discussed, but also because it pulls her focus from the task at hand—specifically, the fact that the library is a complete and utter shambles. Whoever the former librarian was, Hermione is thankful that she is now gone, because the library desperately requires some attention.

For her first week as Hogwarts librarian, most of her time and energy _is_ invested in sorting and organizing the books. The task is a wake-up call of sorts because it reminds Hermione just how much can be discovered in twenty years within the magical community; some of the books are outrageously out-dated. Or at least, to her they are out-dated. This reminds her that there is so much she cannot mention to anyone, no matter how minute and harmless it might seem. Her mere presence has raised suspicion, and she resolves not to do anything to make herself seem like anything out of the ordinary.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Prongs, it goes beyond the fact that she seemingly got past all of the charms and jinxes that they've got on this place to keep people out. There's something odd about her."

"Even if you're right, I doubt either of you is going to be the one to figure out what that something is…"

James and Sirius look over at Remus, who is one of the few students in the library legitimately attempting to study. His eyes are trained on the book that rests on the table in front of him—his way of proving to the world that he's above the silly speculation. "We have our ways," James declares.

"Sorry, but it's not going to work to just stroll up to her and say, 'Madame Granger, pardon me for asking but would you care to explain to me exactly how you came to arrive at Hogwarts and why you are still here?'"

"I wouldn't care to explain at this particular moment, but thank you for asking." The boys jump at the sound of Hermione's voice. They turn to look and find that she has appeared behind them, holding a stack of books in her arms and smirking slightly as she adds, "I'm afraid I'm closing the library for the night."

"Already?" Sirius glances around. "Where did Wormtail get off to? He left to get a book an hour ago."

"If you're referring to Peter Pettigrew, I've already asked him to leave. You three are the only ones left."

James squints at her. "How'd you know that we call Peter 'Wormtail'?"

For just a moment, Hermione doesn't seem to know what to say, but that hesitation disappears almost immediately. "You four have been in here often enough since I took over, and you don't speak nearly as quietly as you think you do." She smiles a bit. "I'm intrigued by this theory that I'm an undercover Ministry of Magic worker. Which department do you think I'm a part of?"

"Padfoot says the Department of Mysteries, but I think you're on some secret mission for the Minister himself."

Hermione directs her attention to Remus. "And what about you?"

"I think that if your reason for being here is a secret, it is a secret for a very good reason, so there's no point in discussing the particulars." He has to work very hard to hold her penetrating gaze.

She evidently likes this answer because she smiles. "Very true. Now, if you wouldn't mind… I'd really like to close up shop."

As James and Sirius scramble to pack up their belongings, Remus does not move from his seat. "May I help you put those away?" he asks, nodding to the large pile of books in her arms. Her hesitation is evident, and before she can refuse him, he adds, "You're probably the only person in the castle that knows this place better than I do. C'mon, let me help."

"Oh, alright. But let's not make a habit of it." When Remus stands up, Hermione allows him to take the top half of the stack. Meanwhile, James and Sirius shuffle away, glancing back at Remus as they go. Sirius makes a face at him, and Remus knows that when he returns to the common room, he can expect to be thoroughly harassed.

Almost as soon as they're gone, he says, "Uh, Madame Granger, I was wondering—"

"Please call me Hermione, Remus. To hear you, of all people, addressing me as a superior…" She falters, arm raised in the air to return a book to its rightful place on a shelf. Her eyes glaze over, and Remus is hesitant to break the spell under which she has evidently placed herself. But she pulls herself out of it, putting the book away and looking back at Remus with a sigh. "I'm sorry. What was it you were wondering?"

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

Again, she pauses for a moment as she's putting a book away. This time, though, she returns it to her pile as she looks at Remus, inspecting him closely. "I'm eighteen. I know that probably seems a bit young to be working here at Hogwarts, but—"

"No, that's not why I asked." He walks into the next row of books to replace one of his own pile. "I've been trying to think of how we might have met." Hermione freezes, but he carries on with no notice of her distress. "Did you live in my village when we were young? Were you a student here for a year or two before you transferred to Beauxbatons?"

"I didn't—oh, but how do you know that I attended Beauxbatons?" She's appalled to realize that she had forgotten herself.

Remus at least has the decency to look a bit guilty when she reaches him, glancing down at the floor and—blushing? Perhaps? She can't tell in the dim light of the library. "Professor Slughorn is a frightful gossip, Madame."

" _Slughorn_ is a frightful gossip?" she says, smirking slightly. "You and your friends made sure that everyone in the school knew my name before dinner. And stop with the 'Madame,' Remus. I mean it."

"Well…" He shrugs awkwardly. "That was James and Sirius, mostly. I'm usually just along for the ride. But you're missing the point! I'm trying to understand how you know who I am and you're not letting me figure it out. It's very frustrating."

Hermione does her best to remain flippant. "Oh, you're still on about that, are you?"

"Yes. No mysterious girl has ever shown up in the Great Hall, woken up, and known my name before I introduced myself. Everyone else is trying to figure out where you've come from, but I just want to know how you knew me before I knew you."

"But what if the former explains the latter?"

He grimaces and looks away. "That's not particularly fair."

"I would explain if I could. I just… can't."

"Do you not trust me to keep a secret?"

It takes her a few moments to realize that Remus has stopped in his tracks, and she quickly returns to him. He looks legitimately distraught, so as gently as possible, she says, "As far as you know, what reason do I have to trust you? After all, we only met for the first time a week ago." She's disgusted by her own lie, regardless of its necessity. There's almost no one she would trust as much as she trusts him.

"Why don't I believe that, though?"

Hermione shrugs. "Perhaps you've got an overactive imagination."

"Perhaps you should settle on one story and decide how you're going to try to convince me that this isn't important."

"Nothing about me is important."

"I don't believe that either."

Suddenly, Remus' gaze feels far too intense and penetrating, and Hermione shifts uncomfortably in one spot for a few moments before turning away and continuing along the line of books. "You should drop it, Remus. I'm saying this as a staff member."

"As a staff member who just told me to call her by her first name."

This sort of remark sounds like something she could have expected from Harry, and she has to fight very hard not to chuckle. "As a friend, then."

"I suppose I could agree to that."

"Good." Remus is holding only one book now, and she gestures to it. "I could take that off your hands; I'm sure you'd like to go and report to your friends that I remain tight-lipped as ever about my identity."

He frowns. "My inquiry had nothing to do with them. I'm not looking forward to getting back to the common room, actually."

"Oh?" She takes the book from him anyway, and steps around him to put it away. He follows a few paces behind.

"Sirius is probably going to be a complete prat about my staying. He'll insinuate things."

That in no way surprises Hermione. She chuckles. "Oh. I would like to point out that the longer you linger, the more reason he'll have to insinuate those things."

Remus disregards this point, and instead chooses to dwell on the fact that she laughed. "I don't think staff should find that sort of thing funny."

"No, I find it funny because—" Because all of Remus and Sirius' stories about their days at Hogwarts now seem a lot more plausible. "Because of reasons."

"Reasons." He squints at her. "You're being cryptic again. Is there anything you can say without being cryptic?"

"I think you should get back to Gryffindor Tower before your friends send out a search party."

He forces a laugh. "I suppose that's not cryptic. Have a good night."

"You too."

Before he's even out of the row of books, he's already turned back to look at her again. "Hey, Hermione? Would it be alright if I help you out like this more often?"

Again, she is clearly hesitant. "I don't know if that would be—"

"I've already asked you all of my burning questions, so I have no ulterior motives."

"No _evident_ ulterior motives. Perhaps you're attempting to gain my trust and coerce me into revealing my secrets."

"You trust me already; there's just the coercion left to go." Hermione scoffs at this, but before she can reply, he adds, "Only joking. Please, Hermione? I really like it here." With you, he nearly adds. But he's not that bold.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, I suppose; do what you like."

As he retreats—this time for good—Hermione allows herself to smile. She likes this young Remus, the Remus who has not yet been altered by a judgmental society and two wars. She thinks of Dumbledore, cautioning her to avoid the people who will one day be a part of her life. Despite this warning, however, she feels that she has enough sense to know what can be discussed with Remus and what cannot.

Regardless, she feels certain that with Dumbledore's assistance, it should be no time at all until she's going back home, at which point it won't matter which people she opted to associate with during her stay.


	3. The Come-and-Go Room

Hermione's confidence in a quick and timely return is soon diminished. A week and a half after she steps in as librarian, Dumbledore approaches her after lunch and requests that she come to his office.

The moment the door is closed, he says, "This past weekend, I sent an owl to a trusted friend of mine in the Department of Mysteries, alerting him to our… situation and asking if he or any of his colleagues might be of some help. I received his reply earlier today and I'm afraid—"

"Oh no," Hermione exclaims. "They don't think they can help?"

Dumbledore hesitates. "Not exactly. They don't currently have the manpower to assist you, but they've agreed to provide you with copies of their notes on any and all past experiments related to time travel. It seems that his superior was reluctant, but as I'm sure you probably know, I can be very convincing."

His warm smile and the gentle twinkle in his eye are a familiar and comforting sight, but she still feels a deep sense of dread sinking in. "I do appreciate it, Professor, but… it could take me years to find anything useful. I've no idea how far off they are from creating a functional time turner, how many bugs they haven't worked out…"

"Well, it actually might interest you to know that apparently, they were probably going to stop the project until your arrival. Now they'll be seeking funding from the Minister to redouble their efforts next year. Your mishap is quite possibly the reason that your time turner will be invented in the first place. Which, as much as I disapprove of meddling with time," he adds, his lips quirking into a smirk, "I'll admit I find rather delightful."

She can't help smiling a touch as well. There is something quite fascinating about watching events unfold around her.

But she has her friends and family to get back to, and she'll see them again more quickly if she spends as little time immersed in this new world as she can possibly manage.

"I'll let you know the moment I've found anything even remotely promising," Hermione assures the headmaster.

"Very well. I will have the first collection of notes sent to the library as soon as they arrive. And please, Miss Granger, do let me know if there is any way I can be of some assistance."

As Hermione descends from Dumbledore's office, her mind is racing. She has no idea, now, how long she can expect to be stuck in the past—and that's assuming she'll eventually figure out how to leave. For the first time, she allows herself to imagine the prospect that she could be stuck here.

Her future is beginning to feel very grim. In a few short years, Voldemort is going to disappear when he attempts to kill Harry, but the years leading up to his demise are some of the darkest and most unpleasant in wizard history. She doesn't particularly fancy the idea of having to live through them.

If only Harry and Ron were with her. Of course she wouldn't wish this on them, but she misses their ability to provide her with different perspectives. Without them, she always just lets herself get so caught up in every little detail…

"Madame Granger?"

With a jolt, Hermione realizes that she has strayed far from Dumbledore's office. Her reflex has, in fact, brought her directly to Gryffindor Tower. The portrait hole is open and Remus, James, and Lily have just emerged. All of them are looking at her with expressions of mixed confusion and concern.

"Oh," she says quietly. Then, more confidently: "Hello. I think I've gotten quite lost."

"I'm afraid you have, yes," Lily agrees. "James and I are nearly late to Care of Magical Creatures, but I think Remus was just about to go to the library to pick up a book, so he can walk you."

Remus looks to Lily, his eyes wide. "I what?"

"Yeah," James adds. "You promised you were going to get that book for the essay Slughorn just assigned."

Hermione casts her gaze over the three friends, taking in James and Lily's innocent expressions. Being around Remus right now is probably the last thing she needs – he's the strongest reminder of the life she's been wrenched away from, and she shouldn't be allowing herself to mope – but she has no clue how to refuse the suggestion without seeming suspicious.

So she tries her best to smile. "Alright, I'd appreciate it."

"Great. We'll see you later, Moony." James and Lily have disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Hermione and Remus standing alone in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. They blink at each other for a few moments, both of them looking equally guarded.

"You don't have to take me to the library," she tells him at last. "I can find my own way."

"No, that's alright. I was going to stop by the owlery, but that can wait." He gestures for her to walk, and together they move toward the staircase.

They've only walked a few paces when Remus glances her way and asks, "So why did you actually end up here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me that you expect me to believe you actually got lost."

She can't help but chuckle—he sounds just like Harry and Ron. "Your friends believe me."

"I doubt it. They're just not going to ask. James and Sirius have pretty much given up hope that you'll admit anything about who you are."

"But not you."

Remus shrugs, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Worst case scenario, you won't answer, so what's the harm?"

After considering Remus for a moment, Hermione offers, "I suppose I was trying to find the Gryffindor common room."

Whatever he was expecting, this was clearly not it. His head jolts up and he gapes at her, looking far more bewildered than he had before. "What? Why?"

"Didn't we talk about this? Sometimes the truth just raises more questions," she says instead of answering.

He grimaces and exclaims, "I'm sure you know very well that that's far more mysterious." Under his breath, he adds, "As though you weren't peculiar enough as it is."

"Pardon?" Hermione asks.

He just shrugs, and they continue on silently.

Only problem is that when they're not chatting, Hermione's mind is free to linger on her increasingly grave prospects. She aches for Harry and the Weasleys. Even more, she misses her mum and dad, who, at the current time, probably only just met a few months before. More than anything, she longs to be back with them right now.

And then a thought occurs to her. She stops in her tracks. It takes Remus a moment to notice, but once he does, he freezes as well, watching her with a concerned frown once more.

"I need to make a quick stop somewhere," Hermione tells him.

She's about to send him away, but before she can, he tells her, "That's fine, I'll join you."

"You don't know where I'm going."

"I'll join you," he repeats, more emphatically this time.

Hermione scrutinizes Remus. The way he's looking at her… like everyone else at Hogwarts, he's curious about who she is and where she's come from, but his expression betrays another sort of interest, which startles her.

Admittedly, there's a portion of her that might be relatively pleased (not that she should allow herself the downtime to sort through precisely what _that_ means). But if she allows him to get too close to her, he might start to get fanciful ideas, and he doesn't deserve that when she hopefully should be – when she _needs to be_ – gone as soon as possible.

But he's her strongest tie to a life that she's seriously missing. So she makes a selfish choice.

"Oh, alright."

They reach a set of stairs and she takes him in the opposite direction of the library. When she comes to a halt in front of an empty patch of wall, she tries to gauge his reaction. Either he's intentionally remaining blank-faced, or he genuinely has no clue that they're standing in front of the Room of Requirement.

Just as she had suspected, then. The Room didn't make it onto the Marauder's Map because the four boys never found it.

"Now, Remus, can you promise me one thing?"

He nods. "Of course."

"Don't tell your friends about what I'm about to show you, alright? Any of it. Including," she adds, speaking over him as he tries to promise prematurely. "A rather remarkable secret about the castle. You four have a tendency to collect those, if I'm not mistaken."

This last bit gives Remus pause, but he still nods mutely.

She paces before the wall, concentrating hard. As she was coming here, she had been certain that she wanted to see something, anything, that made her feel at home, but she had _not_ been certain what she wanted that to be. A room in the Burrow, perhaps, or the cottage where she and her parents stayed in France when they last went there on holiday.

In the moment, though, she realizes that she just wants to sit in her bedroom one more time.

Only once, Hermione promises herself. She will just do this once. Which means that she will have to approach it as though she might possibly never see any of it again.

Remus lets out a low gasp when a door appears in the wall—her bedroom door. Hermione allows herself to graze her hand over the wood, feeling the miniscule curves and grooves that never fascinated her until this moment. Then she opens the door and steps inside, providing Remus with just enough space to trail in behind her.

"What did you just do?" he asks eagerly, racing to look around them and take in the small room that they've entered. He catches sight of the window and rushes to look outside, absorbing the cloudless day and the urban surroundings that the Room replicated so perfectly from Hermione's memory. "We're not still in Hogwarts?"

His enthusiasm warms her heart—he's so carefree compared with the man that she'll come to know.

At the thought, she can't help but smile. He might be less worn out than he will be in 15 years' time, but even now, he manages to seem weather-beaten and exhausted. This young Remus would undoubtedly be amused if she called him carefree.

"None of it is real," Hermione informs him. "Or, well, I suppose it is real. The memory is real. But this place we're in… it's called the Room of Requirement. It creates just about any room, anything you might have need for, so long as it follows—"

"Follows the strictures of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, I'm assuming," Remus muses. She nods, pleased, but he's redirected his attention toward Hermione's desk, where she realizes too late that the Room conjured up a photo of her with Harry and Ron. "Blimey, this bloke is the spitting image of James. Is this the one you mixed him up with when we met you in the hospital wing?"

She swallows hard, drawing a few steps nearer but not daring to take a close look. "Yes. That's Harry. And the other one is Ron. They're my best friends."

"Does that mean thats this room is your—"

"My bedroom," Hermione supplies. Her voice is thick. She slouches down onto the bed and blinks down at her hands.

Remus quickly pulls out the desk chair but doesn't bother to turn it; he just sits in it backward as he watches Hermione carefully, waiting to see if she wants to speak.

Finally, it seems that she does. "I might not be able to see this place again," she informs her hands. "Not my home, my parents, my friends… It's made my world very small. Possibly forever. Dumbledore doesn't even think he can help me, although of course he's downplaying that."

"Even though I don't know what's happened to you, I'm… I'm sorry. I know that doesn't count for much, but I am."

She looks up abruptly and shakes her head. "No, no, don't say that, you're… oh, never mind. I appreciate it."

"You must know me somehow," Remus murmurs. "If you trust me enough to tell me even this much about your past, I can't imagine anything else."

Hermione doesn't bother to contradict him—she's too busy trying to hold back tears. Thus far, she's managed to maintain hope for a return to the future, and as a result, she hasn't shed a single tear for the world she's left. Now all of her pent-up anxiety is threatening to flood to the surface.

"Right, so it's true." He pauses, his gaze tentative as he blinks at her. Then, "I've always been a bit rubbish with comforting words, but according to Lily, I give very comforting hugs, if you'd like one of those."

Even in her state, she allows herself a weak chuckle. Self-deprecating as always.

And she tells herself that she must refuse, that she's already said more than is wise. But when she looks at him, her refusal dies at her lips.

"That would be lovely," Hermione sniffs.

He joins her on her bed tentatively, and if he's surprised by how easily she falls into him, he doesn't say anything. Most likely, he's decided to set aside all of the other burning questions that she's bringing to his attention, for which she's very appreciative. Right now she just wants to sit with him. After a few minutes, he digs around in his pocket to find his handkerchief, which she takes.

Neither of them has any sense of how much time passes. The view from the window to the street doesn't change in the slightest, which means that it could be twenty minutes or five hours later that Hermione wipes at her eyes and tells Remus, "Alright, I'm feeling better."

"Very good. I'm glad." He pulls away from her belatedly and promptly busies himself with adjusting nonexistent creases in his trousers.

She crosses over to her desk and looks over the photo of Harry and Ron one more time. They're smiling at her, waving eagerly. After considering it for a moment, she removes the photo from its frame and pockets it. "Let's go, Remus."

The door disappears as soon as they've stepped outside, and Remus takes one more opportunity to marvel at the Room of Requirement. "I wonder whose idea this was. I guess Ravenclaw, probably." As they begin to walk toward the library, he muses, "I've always had a soft spot for her. The Sorting Hat nearly put me in Ravenclaw."

"Me too," Hermione agrees absent-mindedly. She regrets the words the moment they've slipped out of her mouth.

Remus freezes. "What on earth are you talking about? You were never sorted here."

But she's already come up with a calculated excuse for her slip. "No, of course not. I was agreeing that I always had a soft spot for her too."

Out of all the lies that Hermione's told, this one is the weakest, particularly following a stretch of (admittedly veiled) honesty. She doesn't get to find out whether he's going to call her out on it, though, because at that moment students begin to spill out of a doorway directly in front of them, led by Sirius and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius spots Remus immediately and veers away from the rest of crowd; Peter follows in his wake.

"Moony, waiting for us to get out of Arithmancy? Too good of you, mate, too good…" As though noticing Hermione for the first time, he exclaims, "Oh, and Madame Granger! Afternoon. Hope your day's going well."

"Could be better, but I'll survive," she sighs. "But if you three will excuse me, I really should get back to the library. I've been gone far too long."

Remus tries to argue with her, but her expression stops him cold, so he joins in the chorus of, "Goodbye Madame Granger," from Sirius and Peter.

The moment Hermione's back in the library, she retreats to her office and drops into her chair, burying her face in her hands. Everything that's happened since she left Dumbledore's office should feel like a mistake, but it doesn't. And that's what worries her.


	4. Revelations

"Remus, could you pass the butter?"

He doesn't answer right away. It's only when Peter elbows him in the ribs that he realizes Lily is looking at him expectantly. "Sorry, what?"

"Pass the butter, please."

Even when he's handing it over, he fumbles and nearly drops it into her porridge.

"Are you alright? You've been acting strange all week."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Without even thinking about it, he lies easily. "It's probably just because we're getting closer—"

Lily scoffs and shakes her head. "No, no, the full moon isn't for another week. I know that's not what's going on. What's really bothering you? You can tell us."

Of their own accord, Remus's gaze briefly strays toward the staff table. He takes in Hermione, who is engaged in what appears to be a rather lively debate with Professor McGonagall. Lily lets out a low hum. "Right." Then: "She's pretty, don't you think?"

"Yes. I mean, no. What? Who?"

Peter sniggers beside Remus, but Lily shoots Peter a look that silences him immediately. "Don't make me remind you of all of the girls that you can't so much as speak a word to without stuttering and blushing," she chides, making him grimace.

Turning her attention back to Remus, she says, "Honestly, I'm relieved. I was worried you were still trying to sort out who she is. This is good. From what it sounds like, James and Sirius have been saying for years that you need a distraction from… your furry problem."

Under his breath, Peter remarks, "I don't think they meant a crush on a staff member." Lily ignores him.

Remus, on the other hand, bristles. "It's not about that, Wormtail. I just… I think she and I could be real mates, is all."

And he might be bluffing slightly, but she certainly could use a mate right now; based on what she said earlier in the week, he gets the impression that she has nobody. He's sure she's capable of handling herself, but she shouldn't have to.

His attraction to Hermione is not the only thing that Remus is doing his best to under-sell. Whether intentional or not, he feels rather certain that she has come close to giving him all of the information he needs to piece together who she is. He suspects that one missing piece will be enough to make him understand, although he has no clue what that missing piece might be.

From across the hall, some of the people at the Ravenclaw table begin to shout, drawing Lily and Peter's attention away from Remus. It seems that the Ravenclaw quidditch team has finished eating and is headed out to the quidditch pitch, and the other members of the house are trying to give them a proper send-off.

"We should finish quickly," Lily says. "James would be disappointed if we missed the beginning of the match. Sirius has probably already saved our seats."

But watching a quidditch game is suddenly the very last thing that Remus Lupin wants to do.

He clears his throat. "You two go ahead. I'm on patrol duty tonight, so I think I'd like to get an early start on that Defense Against the Dark Arts essay."

"Are you sure?" Remus knows very well that, even as Lily asks the question, she is anticipating his answer.

"I am. James won't miss me, and it'll give him an excuse to recount the entire match at dinner."

Lily smirks. "You are right, I'll grant you that. Alright."

So, as they leave the Great Hall, Lily and Peter follow the other students trickling out of the castle toward the quidditch pitch, and Remus retreats up the stairs alone.

He briefly returns to Gryffindor Tower to collect his bag – he wasn't lying, he is scheduled to patrol and it is in his best interest to work on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay instead of attend the match – but then he makes his way to the library, picturing all of his friends laughing at him as he goes.

As he enters the library, Remus is already running over his excuse to Hermione for why he is here, repeating his words to Lily over and over again in his mind.

But she's nowhere to be seen. When the library is open, she is almost always bustling in between the shelves, sorting and reorganizing everything to suit her liking. As far as he can tell, though, he is entirely alone.

Moments later, Remus hears a crash from somewhere in the vicinity of the office, so he rushes down the nearest aisle to determine what happened. He finds a jumble of books in the aisle adjacent to the open door of Hermione's office and assumes that this must be the source of the noise.

"Hermione? It's – it's Remus, are you here?" He peers into her office and finds that it, too, is empty.

She can't have been gone long. There's an open book and a steaming mug of tea on her desk, and she's left music playing. Scanning the cluttered room, he notes the small record player perched atop a large stack of books. He spots the album jacket on another stack of books and steps around the desk to look at it, but something else catches his eye.

The picture from Hermione's desk in the Room of Requirement is sticking out from underneath the album jacket. Despite the fact that he examined it closely the first time he saw it, his curiosity gets the better of him—when Hermione was with him, he felt too self-conscious to look at it as thoroughly as he'd wanted to before.

Remus frowns down at the two boys. They, along with Hermione, are waving cheerfully up at him. He'd already forgotten precisely how much the shorter boy – Harry, she'd said his name is Harry – looks like James. The resemblance is truly disarming.

He traces his thumb over their faces, flips the photo over, and inhales sharply at the same moment that Hermione's voice comes from behind him. "Remus?"

Immediately, the photo falls from his hand as he jolts. "Hi, sorry, I…" His apology dies at his lips when he sees her expression and realizes that she's not cross with him for looking around. She just looks curious. "I like the record," he says, nodding toward the player. "You don't hear much Muggle music around here. I didn't know Fleetwood Mac had a new album out."

She nods. "Yes. My… my dad and I used to listen to them. I think this is their best album."

"Yeah?" Remus smiles weakly.

"Mhm." Hermione takes a few steps into the office, folding her hands behind her back. "Why aren't you at the quidditch game?"

"I was hoping to finish an essay before my patrol tonight, so I thought I'd work on it here. I was just going to settle in, but then I heard those books fall and I thought I'd just make sure…"

Exasperation suddenly crosses Hermione's face as she rolls her eyes. "I didn't see him, so I can't say for sure, but I think it was just Peeves. He's been making it impossible to keep this place neat. It's driving me mad."

"Oh, alright. I'm glad it wasn't anything more serious."

They are both quiet for some moments, as though not wanting to step on each other's toes by speaking. Finally, Hermione grows tired of waiting. "Remus, you're clearly itching to say something. Go ahead."

Remus swallows hard. "You're not going to want to explain."

"I thought you were going to ask me any questions you had in case I'm willing to give you an answer." She actually looks a bit amused.

Another silence stretches between them.

"Why is that photo labeled, 'July 1996?'"

"I suppose there are a few options, right?" Her voice is shaking almost imperceptibly. "Either that's when it was taken, or it wasn't labeled correctly."

Somehow, this makes it even more difficult to ask the next question. "How could you be in a photo that was taken in July of 1996?"

Hermione raises her eyebrows. "Don't tell me that you don't already suspect the answer."

"No. If what you're saying is true… But the answer doesn't make any sense."

On the one hand, she's not arguing with him, not pressing him to consider the possibility… But she's still watching him. Making him feel ridiculously self-conscious. Remus tells himself that he wishes that he were out in the quidditch stands with Lily, Peter, and Sirius, but he knows even as he's thinking it that it isn't true. He begins to talk very fast.

"Let's imagine you're from the future, then. Which should be impossible, except it explains so much else. Like how you… how you got past all of Hogwarts' security when you arrived. How you know about me and my friends when we don't know about you. And you're… if you attended Hogwarts, if you were in Gryffindor, it would explain why you ended up at the common room the other day. And that friend of yours, Harry, he's… what, a cousin of James's or something, hasn't been born yet? He looks to be _at least_ 15, and I have a hard time imagining that James would already…"

But Hermione's mouth twitches at this slight mistake, and Remus notices. His eyes widen. "He is James's. Is that… is that really what you'd have me believe?"

A rush of pride courses through Hermione. She wonders whether this is how he felt when she revealed that she'd figured out his identity as a werewolf. Then, feeling suddenly more flustered, she wonders whether, at that moment during her third year, he was remembering _this_ moment in a similar way.

" _Do you_ believe me?"

Remus hesitates. "I don't want to, but… I think I might."

She lets out a sigh of relief. Before she can speak, though, he continues. "The only thing is, I just don't understand… Why are you telling me? If you know me, shouldn't you be avoiding me like the plague?"

This is precisely the question that she was hoping he _wouldn't_ ask, at least not yet, because she's still not really sure why.

"Would you rather I modify your memory?" Hermione asks, drawing closer to him and reaching into her pocket as though to retrieve her wand.

"No, no, please don't, you misunderstand. You know that I won't tell anyone, yeah?" She nods, and Remus rushes to continue. "I want to believe you, I do, but if this is true, you should be lying low, trying not to meddle."

"So you'd like me to leave you alone."

"No!" Remus exclaims with a sense of exasperation and urgency that extends even beyond his refusal of the memory modification charm. "But I don't understand why you're _not_ leaving me alone."

Hermione might actually explain to him if she had a better sense of it. As it is, her thoughts are a muddle of agony over the poor chances for her return, mourning – essentially – for the world that she's left, frustration at her lack of control over the situation, and something that she's reluctant to call attraction to Remus (because she can't tell whether she's actually interested in him or just enjoying his flirting). She can't sort through it all for the life of her.

"I don't know," she tells him. If Remus is frustrated or annoyed, he hides it well. "Now, Peeves has done a fair amount of damage to my library, so may I take you up on your offer to help me sort it out, or should I leave you to your essay?"

"Yeah, sure," Remus stammers, moving aside as she steps past him to return a book to the stack closest to her desk. "I'd be happy to help."

They don't talk about Hermione's claimed time travel after that. For about ten minutes, Remus seems to be in shock, but after that he begins to interact with Hermione normally.

After they've straightened up Peeves' mess, Remus sets up at his usual table to work on his essay and Hermione hovers for a good fifteen minutes before apparently acknowledging to herself that she's going to stick around. So she sits down across from Remus and gives him suggestions as he talks through his essay aloud.

"You must have been a teacher's dream," he remarks at one point, and Hermione smiles, only just resisting the temptation to tell him that he'll have an opportunity to experience that for himself in about 15 years.

Other students begin to filter in at some point around mid-afternoon, indicating that the quidditch match must have ended. Remus finishes up his essay not long after. Beginning to pack up his ink and parchment, he says, "I think I'm going to go find my friends before they come here looking for me."

She nods. "Of course. Be safe this week, alright? Don't wear yourself out too much."

"What are you talking about?"

"Full moon is next Saturday, isn't it?" Hermione furrows her brow, running over the month's calendar in her head to figure out whether she'd gotten her dates wrong.

But Remus is just staring at her in amazement. Lowering his voice, he says, "You know, I don't think I quite believed you until right now."

Hermione considers this to be a tremendous victory.

Looking over at him mildly, she says, "Perhaps this should go without saying, but your friends…"

"Won't hear a thing about you. I doubt they'll even ask," Remus adds with a chuckle. "Seems like the match went on for a long time, so they'll have a lot to talk about."

Remus is less than halfway back to Gryffindor tower when the question occurs that he wishes he had asked immediately upon learning that Hermione had traveled back in time.

Does that mean she's as young as he thinks she is?

He wonders whether she's been born yet. He wonders how old she will be when she meets him. He wonders how they know one another. They must be fairly close in her time, at least enough so that she knows he's a werewolf and trusts him implicitly anyway.

For the first time, Remus feels as though he's made a fool of himself.


	5. An Invitation

In the months following Hermione's revelation, she and Remus spend an increasing amount of time together. Over the weekends, he essentially leaves the library only to eat and sleep. He makes a great show of studying—after all, he's one of many students beginning to prepare for his NEWTs, so his behavior is not exactly out of place. But in reality, he mostly helps Hermione out with odd jobs around the library.

Remus's behavior changes toward Hermione, too. Although he still doesn't know precisely how old Hermione was in her time, they've likely got nearly a 20-year age difference between them. He cannot really fathom what that means, but he can't imagine how she could be around him and not feel that distance each moment they are together.

So despite the fact that he continues to harbor feelings for the young librarian – feelings that, if anything, seem to grow as he spends more time with her – he begins to maintain a respectable distance between them in a way that he didn't bother with before.

Not long after she confesses that she's travelled back in time, she asks Remus to help her as she researches possible ways to repair her time turner. "Dumbledore probably wouldn't approve of you getting a look at most of this," she amends as she gestures toward her desk. "But with an extra set of eyes, I'll have a better chance of finding something useful."

There's a part of him that's reluctant to help; he can't ignore the niggling thought that once she repairs the device, she will leave.

But his refusal would be selfish, and he knows it.

"Of course I'll help."

It doesn't hurt that she also tells him that he's the only one who she'd trust not to miss anything valuable.

After that, when Remus isn't studying for his NEWTs, he is poring over documents for Hermione. More than once, he has to stop James or Sirius from reading what he suspects is rather sensitive information.

"I don't get what you're being so secretive about," James says after one of these near misses. "Some of the other blokes think that you're shagging Madame Granger but I don't think that's it."

"No?" Remus looks up from his book, smirking a bit.

James looks startled by Remus's cavalier response and for a few moments, he scrutinizes Remus, trying to determine whether he's teasing. It's not until Remus allows his grin to grow wider that James's expression softens. "Gods, don't joke like that. I'm trying to be serious here."

"So am I," Remus agrees. He gestures to the books scattered around him. "Hence the studying."

Far from graciously accepting Remus's dismissal, James settles into the vacant seat beside Remus, leaning on the table and resting his chin in his hand. "I don't like this, mate. Something's nagging at you. You're almost acting more secretive than before we figured out that you have a… special relationship with the moon."

"I'm confused. Now are you suggesting that I'm shagging the moon?"

James swats Remus's arm. "Shut it. We're just worried. You spend all your time in here, and I want to make sure you're alright."

Remus nods. "I'm fine."

"Okay." James sniffs carefully, and Remus watches as his friend's gaze shifts toward Hermione's office. "I've been meaning to ask—do you want to come to my mum and dad's summer house this year?"

After only a moment's consideration, Remus says, "Yes, of course. Sirius and Peter will join us, I assume."

"I even talked Lily into coming along," James tells him with no small amount of pride. "So, you know, if you'd like to invite somebody…"

There it is: that's why he chose this moment to bring it up.

"Goodbye, Prongs," Remus sighs, already returning his attention to a document full of barely-legible writing on time travel research in Asia.

James ruffles Remus's hair as he gets up to leave, and Remus can't help chuckling down at his book. It's moments like this that he remembers just how blessed he is to have his friends, even if they are determined to find gossip in places where it doesn't exist.

When Hermione appears at his table less than two minutes later, Remus prays that she did not overhear James's tactless questions.

If she did, though, she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she tells him, "I'm going to close up shop soon. Would you like to stay tonight, or have you got work to do?"

He has technically got an essay to write for Slughorn, but he's reluctant to bring it up because he'd far rather help Hermione to put stray books away late into the evening.

In Remus's defense, this assignment in particular – an essay on various new advances in experimental potion-making – is almost complete. The final potion is one in which he possesses a vested interest because researchers are speculating that it should create a far less agonizing wolf transformation during the full moon. He's been keeping such close tabs on its development that he could write on it in his sleep.

So when he shrugs and said, "I haven't got anything important," he doesn't feel ashamed.

After sorting through stray books, Remus generally stays in the library for as long as Hermione will have him. Very often, she asks him to leave almost immediately. And he respects that, of course. But he greatly prefers the nights when she allows him to linger.

This is one of those nights. He provoked conversation based on a compelling experiment that he identified in his reading earlier. It had seemed fairly mundane, but Hermione had made him swear to show her anything so long as he had the slightest inkling that it could be of value.

But they're not chatting about time travel now. They're debating the merits of ink and quill above various Muggle writing utensils, not with any particular vigor, but just because it's something to argue about.

"It's just so archaic," Hermione insists. "Wizards are so scared to acknowledge when Muggles have gotten something right."

Remus sighs, rolling his eyes. "Are we back there again? You said the same thing about wearing Muggle clothes." He gestures between them. "Like there's something wrong with wearing robes and cloaks."

"No, no, comparatively I'm more on board with robes. At least they're still maintaining that tradition at some Muggle universities. But I probably never would have touched a quill if I didn't come to school at Hogwarts."

Hermione falters the moment she says this, and Remus frowns slightly. She's been so very careful to avoid talking about her past – his future – in the wizarding world. He's well aware that in her own time, she did attend Hogwarts, but they seem to have developed a silent agreement to talk as though her fabricated story is true.

She leans farther back in her chair, away from Remus. "So are you nervous for your NEWTs?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, but I haven't got a reason to be."

"What do you mean?"

"It'll be a miracle if I find somewhere to work. Even if someone's willing to hire me, they'll hardly care about my NEWTs."

"Oh." Hermione's face falls. She'd assumed that he probably had difficulty securing jobs as soon as she realized that he was a werewolf, a fact which he'd confirmed – albeit always vaguely – in later conversations. But it hurts her to realize that he's only 17 and already resigned to this future.

"There we go," he murmurs. Before Hermione can even ask, he adds, "We've talked about my condition a few times, but that's the first time you've given me a look of pity. It's a bit of a relief."

"Why?"

Remus furrows his brow and looks down at his lap. "You've got a great poker face; I can never tell what you're thinking."

Hermione finds herself at a loss for words. When she does speak, it's to say, "I think that it's about time you went back to Gryffindor Tower."

"It's still early, though."

She sighs. "It is not. We've been sitting here for nearly two hours."

"Christ, really?" He immediately scrambles to straighten up the books and roles of parchment before him, which the two of them stopped looking at long ago. He separates everything into two piles—materials that he's already read as opposed to those he has yet to look over.

His own to-read pile has been steadily dwindling, as has Hermione's, and they both have yet to find anything truly significant. Information from the Department of Mysteries is still trickling in, but not at the rate that it did when Dumbledore first appealed to him. Hermione suspects that regardless of what they tell Dumbledore, the Unspeakables are keeping the truly crucial information to themselves.

It is particularly difficult because she still doesn't know exactly how her time turner malfunctioned. Through the limited testing that's catalogued in the notes that Remus and Hermione have pored over, researchers have found solutions to some more common problems with time travel, but they have yet to determine adequate fixes for physical damage to the time turner itself. In fact, this seems to be much of the reason that time travel is still not allowed outside of the Department of Mysteries.

Just Hermione's luck.

Only… as she watches Remus return everything to her office, she can't help wondering how much of a problem it would be if she just… stayed.

The thought's been nagging at her more and more, particularly as her chances of going home seem to go down and – as much as it startles her – as she's gotten to know Remus better. He seemed so different during her own time, but Hermione… she likes him like this, when they're on common ground.

He's charming, even, despite the fact that he probably doesn't see himself that way.

"May I ask you something?" Remus says suddenly.

Although Hermione jolts at the question, she puts on a smile with relative ease and meets his gaze. "Go ahead."

"What are your plans for the summer?"

She hadn't even thought of it until he asked, but now she realizes that if she is to remain in 1977, even if just for the time being, she can hardly expect to stay at Hogwarts. "I have no idea," she admits.

Remus folds his arms tightly across his chest as he leans against the door jamb. It seems as though he's doing everything he can to make the following question as casual as possible: "Would you like to come with me and my mates on holiday?"

"Come with you?" Hermione is acutely aware of the way her pulse quickens at the very thought, and she walks past him into her office, looking the other way to conceal her flushed face. "I'd hate to be an imposition."

"You wouldn't be an imposition," Remus rushes to say. "I've lost track of the number of times Lily has said that she feels like the two of you would have got along well if you'd attended Hogwarts with us. And the lads… they'd all love it if you came along. We're staying with Prongs and his parents at their summer home, and he's already said you'd be welcome."

The implications of this offer are jarring. Without really intending to, she's become such a fixture in Remus's life that James and the rest of Remus's friends are hoping to spend more time with her, even expecting it.

It's also worth noting that even though their interactions have never even verged on explicitly romantic, there's an undertone of that behind his question… behind most of their exchanges these days, but certainly behind this invitation.

"Give me some time to think about it?" she asks at last.

Remus starts to wilt. "Yeah, of course."

"No need to look so sad," Hermione says with a chuckle. "I'm tempted to say yes, I promise. I just need to consider it."

The young wizard leaves the library that night with an eager spring in his step. Meanwhile, Hermione retreats to her own quarters feeling rather anxious.

She hasn't reported her progress to Dumbledore for quite some time. She has no doubt that he's aware of what she's doing—he's always had a knack for knowing about everything happening around Hogwarts. That said, he very much exists in her mind as her conscience as she considers all of her interactions with Remus.

As Hermione spends more time in 1977, though, she becomes more willing to integrate, less interested in leaving. She struggles to shake the thought that if she meddles, anything that she does will not be recreating her history, but rather cementing it.

It makes it no small wonder that the ability to travel through time is so strictly regulated in the future, and her unchecked thoughts rather scare her.

There's a small sealed package sitting on the table in Hermione's room when she arrives. She's relieved to see that there's a note—since she has absolutely no connections in 1977, she would have been worried if an anonymous package had arrived.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _Given that you have been struggling to find a solution for your time travel device, and given that the term has nearly come to an end, I have begun to make more long-term arrangements for your stay in our time. Enclosed are various documents and essentials. Please continue to keep me apprised of your progress over the holidays._

 _Should you still be here at the start of next term, you are of course welcome to remain in your post as librarian. However, I will take this opportunity to remind you that this arrangement is as it has always been: temporary._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione lets out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. His gentle nudging is necessary, perhaps, but she doesn't appreciate it.

Looking through the package, she finds that Dumbledore has enclosed her end-of-the-year paycheck in addition to what look to be documents for the false Hermione Granger that she has invented—an account of her parents and a record of her attendance at Beauxbatons, where her performance was apparently exemplary. He's even acquired a Gringotts vault for her.

For the first time in weeks, Hermione goes to bed feeling very alone. As she drifts off, she muses that perhaps she should get herself a cat.


	6. Acceptance

Hermione is seated on the edge of her desk in front of Remus, her legs parted just enough so that he can stand in between them. He holds her with one hand at her hip, the other at the nape of her neck as he lightly grazes his mouth over her jawbone.

She's taking shallow breaths, and when he sucks at her skin, nipping her gently, she lets out a low gasp. "Remus, stop teasing," she instructs, but there's a hint of desperation to the request. Her tone makes Remus groan as it adds to the heat already building in his gut.

"I'm not teasing," he tells her. "I just like kissing you."

"Me too," Hermione breathes. "But…" Her voice trails off as he kisses her neck, but she squirms closer to him.

Remus pulls back just enough so that he can meet her gaze. He takes in her darkened eyes, her swollen lips, a quirk of a smile…

He moves his hand from her hip, smoothing it down the length of her skirt and lingering there for a moment before he goes to inch his hand beneath the fabric.

"Oi, Moony! Get up, c'mon!"

James's voice tugs Remus out of his dream in an instant as he pulls the curtains of the window aside. The sunlight startles Remus even with his eyes still closed and he groans, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow. "James, sod off."

"'Fraid I can't, mate. You need to get up and get dressed. Breakfast is ending in fifteen minutes, and you made me promise to make sure you ate something before the exam."

As soon as Remus processes the time, he does scramble out of bed, rummaging through his wardrobe in a great hurry. "Fifteen minutes? You couldn't have woken me earlier?"

"I tried," James says with a light chuckle. "You were _out_. Smiling pretty wide, though. Were you having that dream again?"

"No, of course not," Remus grunts into his undershirt as he pulls it over his head. He should never have mentioned that he'd been having dreams about Hermione. It was embarrassing enough having to face her every day after imagining the things he did. "I was just enjoying the sleep. You know how it's been."

This much, at least, is true. The full moon occurred right as the teachers began to prepare the seventh years for their NEWTs in earnest, meaning that they could not allow Remus the same amount of leeway that they generally would in the days following his transformation. Since the beginning of June, he's mostly been running on adrenaline and suspicious-smelling potions from a very helpful, encouraging Lily.

"At least we've almost finished. This time tomorrow we'll be planning for the end-of-the-year feast."

Remus looks up from his shoelaces at James, his eyebrows raised. "You'll be planning for the end-of-the-year feast. I'll be sleeping."

"Sure, sure, or that." It's very clear that James has absolutely no intention of excluding Remus from their final day at Hogwarts, and Remus resigns himself to having to sleep on the train back to London.

The common room is practically empty when they rush through; any students who are not at breakfast are no doubt already making their way to their exams. If it weren't for Remus and James's spectacular knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, chances are they wouldn't have made it to breakfast. As it is, though, they arrive just in time for Remus to swipe a few stray slices of toast from a tray.

He begins to eat three slices in one go as they make their way up to their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. As much as he despises being startled awake, he genuinely is appreciative toward James—now that he's conscious, he's aware that he's absolutely famished, and he has no clue how he'd have survived until lunch.

James and Remus are almost the last two students to stroll in. They slide into the empty seats on either side of Lily, James grabbing her hand and giving it a quick kiss as she smiles gently at Remus and says, "Morning." He greets her through his final mouthful of toast.

Regardless of what he's told Hermione several times, Remus finds that this particular NEWT does have him feeling anxious. Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been his favorite subject, and out of all of his exams, this is the one for which he feels obligated to perform well. He wouldn't be worried about it if he weren't so damn exhausted.

And then, from across the aisle, Sirius pulls a bar of chocolate from his pocket and tosses it to Remus, mouthing, "For your nerves." In that moment, Remus would have gladly come to blows with anyone who tried to claim that they had friends better than his.

Lily finishes her exam first, and Remus is not far behind. The two of them linger on a bench outside the classroom, waiting as James, then Sirius, then Peter all filter from the room as well. As they make their way back to the Great Hall for lunch, they all discuss the answers to various questions, although Remus finds himself lagging just slightly behind the group.

Catching sight of Remus, Sirius allows himself to fall back out of conversation with James, who easily joins in on Lily and Peter's discussion.

"Perhaps there's no point in asking," Sirius says carefully. "But have you sorted out our holiday plans yet?"

Remus shoots his friend a stern look, feeling more irritated than he really wants all of his mates to see. It's been ages since he invited Hermione on holiday with them, and she hasn't brought it up since. He's been afraid to mention it too, as though that might somehow jinx it.

"I'd have told you if there were any news," he mumbles.

"Yeah, it's just…" He gestures vaguely toward James. "Prongs isn't going to push the subject, but we all know that his parents would like to know what to expect when we arrive. He promised them a headcount weeks ago and he's delayed it for her, but they're—"

A voice from the other end of the hall comes as a very welcome interruption. "Remus!"

Hermione's voice makes Remus's heart stutter as he peers around other students. They come to meet each other in the middle of the hall. Before he even has to say anything, his friends casually meander away, still walking in the direction of the Great Hall, but moving very slowly and stopping far more than could possibly be necessary.

"I'm glad I found you," she tells him as they come together. "I wanted to ask about the holidays."

One or two students look between Remus and Hermione curiously as they pass, but if Hermione is uncomfortable, she doesn't let it show. Meanwhile, Remus is suddenly shaking when he asks, "Yes?"

"Would it still be alright if I came along?"

"Y-yes, of course it would be alright," he exclaims. "I'll tell James that you've said you'd like to come."

"Lovely." Hermione smiles gently. "I won't keep you, I know you'd probably like to prepare for your last exam. Can we discuss the details tomorrow?"

Remus nods mutely. Her smile growing, she bids him goodbye – he hardly even registers it – before heading off in the direction of the library. Rushing to catch up with his friends, he turns a corner up ahead and stumbles straight into them.

"Is she coming?" Peter asks.

Again, he nods, which is quickly followed by a chorus of chuckles and, "Nice job," and, "Glad to hear it." They make it the rest of the way to lunch with no further interruptions.

* * *

Immediately after finishing their exams, James and Peter sneak into Honeydukes while Sirius and Remus get into the kitchens, and all four of them return with bags full to bursting with treats. More than one younger student remarks that it'll be disappointing when this tradition cannot be upheld next year, and it's only then that it begins to register to the group of friends that they have truly completed their time at Hogwarts.

The common room enjoys a state of moderately controlled chaos that evening. Even though he's exhausted, Remus can't help joining in on the festivities. That said, it's rather early that he feels himself nodding off beside Peter, so he takes it as a sign that he should head up to bed.

He hasn't even changed into his pajamas before someone else enters the dormitory. "Hey Remus, I'm about to head to the owlery to send my parents a letter, but I wanted to check in on one more thing before I do."

James sits down on Sirius's empty bed, gesturing that Remus sit down as well. As he does, he mutters, "This all seems very serious."

"It's not really. I just don't like seeing you standing for long periods of time when I can count the hours you've slept this past week on my fingers."

Remus looks away. "Oh. Well what is it then?"

"I realized we haven't talked about the next full moon. It's so close and all, so I wasn't sure whether you'd want to come with us straight away or go home and see your parents for a few days and stick out the first moon with them before coming to join us."

Whatever Remus was expecting, it wasn't something like that. He stares at James for a good five or ten seconds as he processes the question. "Do you have a preference?"

"You know us, mate. We like having you around no matter what time of month. I just thought you'd appreciate the option. I suppose you could also just come with us and then leave for the night, but we'd be worried about you traveling in that condition."

"Sure, I wouldn't want to travel either." Remus hesitates. He's never really discussed with his friends precisely how much he appreciates their attention during the full moon. Transformations without them are the most unpleasant experience in the world, but with them… he'd almost dare to call it fun.

That said, the boys will not be the only ones there. Hermione, Lily, James's parents… (Hermione, his brain stresses again for good measure.) If anything went wrong and he hurt one of them, he would never be able to forgive himself.

As though reading Remus's mind, James says, "We'd keep a close eye on you, of course. But Mum and Dad aren't worried, and you shouldn't be either."

"If you're sure…"

James chuckles. "I insist. We never like it when you have to go through a moon alone."

"Okay." Remus hesitates before holding out his hand to James. "I'm lucky to have you three as mates, have I mentioned that recently?"

"No, but we know you think so," James says with another eager laugh. He grabs Remus's hand, but instead of shaking it, he wrenches Remus off of his own bed so that he can pull him into an eager hug. "We're going to have a blast this summer." As he loosens his grip on his friend, James continues, "I'll tell my parents they should plan to meet us all at King's Cross, then. How will Hermione be joining us, have you asked her yet?"

Remus shakes his head. "We were going to discuss it tomorrow. Apparate, maybe? Come on the train?"

"Do faculty ever ride the train?" James asks. "I've never seen that before."

"I don't see why she shouldn't if she's coming with us."

James hums thoughtfully, rising to his feet and making his way back toward the door. "I suppose. Well, if she doesn't want to take the train, she can apparate to King's Cross and meet us there too." Before he leaves, he says, "Now please get some sleep. We'll wake you up for lunch, alright?"

"Alright," Remus agrees, smiling at James with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

The end-of-term celebrations continue on downstairs, and for some time the noise keeps Remus from falling asleep. He suspects, however, that he would have struggled to fall asleep even without the noise of the party—he's simply got too much on his mind.

His friends assume that he's mostly nervous about Hermione coming on holiday with them, and that is part of it. That said, he's reluctant to acknowledge his other worries. James, Peter, Sirius, and Lily are already considering their futures, discussing dream jobs and dream homes. For them, this upcoming summer is sort of a final homage to their time in school before they enter into the Real World.

But Remus's future doesn't bear the same sort of promise. His parents have already assured him that he can stay with them for as long as he needs to, but he cannot – doesn't want to – rely on them forever. Quite frankly, unless things change drastically, he has no idea how he will possibly be able to support himself.

He suspects it would be easier if it weren't for Voldemort. As it is, any wizards who have not allied themselves with the dark wizard would immediately assume that Remus, as a werewolf, _is_ on Voldemort's side, and they would no doubt refuse to hire him on principle.

Meanwhile, Voldemort wooed the werewolves to his side, but from everything that Remus understands, Voldemort's supporters generally regard werewolves as sub-human and would be no more likely to hire him.

Not that he would stoop so low anyway.

So the fact of the matter is that while Remus has attended Hogwarts, he has been in a bubble. His life is only going to get more difficult, and it terrifies him beyond reason.


	7. On Holiday

Hermione stands over her half-filled trunk, casting her gaze across her room. Since coming to 1977, her life has been so remarkably small compared with how she lived in her own time. Now, though, she's stunned by how much she's somehow managed to accumulate, nearly all of it books. She's going to need to find an opportunity to go shopping for more clothes.

With a sigh, she fills her trunk the rest of the way with her unread pile of books and parchment on time travel. Everything that remains fits neatly inside it. This fact leaves an empty feeling in her stomach.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Then a voice: "Miss Granger, do you have a moment?"

She answers the door very quickly after that. Albus Dumbledore is waiting there, staring thoughtfully at a spot on the wall to the right of her door. "Professor Dumbledore. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, given that you'll be leaving on the train shortly, I wanted to discuss your plans for the holidays."

The uncomfortable pit in Hermione's stomach grows even larger, but she nods and steps aside to allow him inside. "Of course."

Dumbledore shuts the door behind him, coming to stand in the middle of her room. For a few moments, he simply looks at her. "I understand that you've made plans to stay with Fleamont and Euphemia Potter this summer."

For a moment, she's startled by the names; she can't remember any other time when she's heard a reference to Harry's paternal grandparents. "Yes, I have."

He nods thoughtfully. With a glance toward her trunk, he says, "I am pleased to see that you plan to continue your research while you are away. That said, I wanted to reiterate my advice from earlier this term: if you know Mr. Lupin and his friends in your time, please remain cautious."

"I've been very careful not to tell them anything about the future," she assures him. He has no idea how hard it's been to keep quiet about everything that she knows, how nervous she already is about spending the summer interacting with James and Sirius as though they aren't going to die, interacting with Wormtail as though he isn't going to betray is best friends.

"Yes, I don't doubt that, but that's not my largest concern." Dumbledore pauses. "Revealing secrets about the future is not the only potential problem that you might encounter. Do you really feel that it's wise to allow people in this time to form emotional attachments to you?"

Hermione presumes that this question is rhetorical, because she has no doubt in her mind that Dumbledore knows that she knows the answer. Of course it isn't wise. She can't help but suspect that he's also alluding specifically to Remus, regardless of his allusions to the other boys.

"I've been very careful," she repeats. She knows it's a lie—if she were being careful, she would never have spoken with Remus or the others. If she were being careful, she wouldn't have reached a point with Remus where she feels…

Well, she's still not quite sure what she feels, but she knows that if she'd been careful, she wouldn't feel it.

She suspects that Dumbledore knows that she's lying, too. He always seems to know.

But he doesn't call her out. Instead: "I'm pleased to hear it. Give the Potters my best, would you?"

* * *

Hermione works very hard to ignore the whispers of students while they watch her board the Hogwarts Express. Speculations about her past and her presence at Hogwarts died down quickly enough after her arrival, but it seems that students' questions have sprung up anew as a result of her presence on the train.

Then Sirius and James begin to loudly present other explanations for the stares and whispers.

"Prongs, I think everyone's finally realized how awful your haircut looks."

"Nah, mate, they're looking at you. Probably heard about how few NEWTs you got."

It's a great comfort to her. As they find an empty compartment and squeeze in together – with James and Sirius still volleying back and forth with increasingly absurd reasons why they might be attracting the students' stares – she feels truly at home for the first time since she arrived in 1977.

Almost as soon as they've settled in, James clears his throat and leans forward, looking at Hermione from across the aisle. "Alright, I need to ask you a serious question."

She tries to mask her concern as well as she can manage. "Yes?"

"Please tell us your name. Moony refused and we can hardly keep treating you like faculty now that we've finished at Hogwarts."

The request comes as such a surprise that Hermione actually laughs. Glancing over at Remus, she says carefully, "Remus refused?"

He hesitates. "I wasn't… quite sure whether you wanted them to know."

And she realizes suddenly that Remus has been going above and beyond to keep her secret, probably concealing _anything_ about her identity that she had not explicitly given him permission to share. Perhaps he was right to conceal her name, too—it will make it easier to explain away her presence in the past when she appears in the future. As it is, only the staff at Hogwarts know her first name, and she suspects that Dumbledore will simply tell them the truth when she arrives at Hogwarts in the future.

"Jean," she tells James. The closest she can get to the truth.

When Remus catches Hermione's eye, she just shrugs slightly before allowing Lily to engage her in conversation.

* * *

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter are nothing like what Hermione was expecting. They're far more subdued than their son, but more eager to engage with strangers than Harry has ever been. Having never met Hermione – or, to Hermione's great surprise, Lily – the Potters are quick to pull them into hugs and shower them with questions.

Given that everyone is of age, they've made plans to apparate from King's Cross, although their departure is hindered for some time as James and the others exchange goodbyes with many of the other students.

Finally, though, Euphemia settles her hand on James's shoulder, and something about the interaction works as quite the convincing cue, because minutes later they are all turning on the spot, one after the other. After going through the familiar, horrible feeling of being squeezed through an unpleasant tube, Hermione finds herself on a beach, Euphemia Potter and Lily already waiting for the others to arrive.

The Potters' summer home reminds her of Bill and Fleur's cottage, albeit large enough to house a far more substantial number of people. The thought is simultaneously comforting and distressing.

With another 'pop,' James's father arrives at her side, and everyone else comes close behind. James, Sirius, and Peter race forward eagerly, pulling their trunks across the sand. Hermione, on the other hand, lags behind, and Remus walks with her.

"So which one's your real name?" he asks, his voice low.

Hermione chuckles. "They both are, technically. Jean is my middle name, but I don't use it."

She allows Remus the time to consider this silently.

"Why'd you tell me the truth but not them?"

The question lurking behind this is the same one that she knows has been on his mind since she told him the truth: why does she trust him _so_ absolutely?

But with just a glance from Hermione, Remus grimaces and nods. "None of my business, I got it."

He doesn't sound resentful, exactly, but if his low sigh and closed posture are any indication, Hermione suspects that he can't help being frustrated with her secrecy, so she tells him, "Thank you again for your invitation. I wouldn't have liked staying at Hogwarts over the summer, and I…" She nearly doesn't complete the sentence, but in a fit of boldness, she continues. "I really appreciate your company."

Immediately, his eyes grow soft. "Yeah, of course. I'm really pleased that you wanted to come."

James's parents are standing in the entrance, which is at the bottom of a staircase up which they are directing Hermione and the others. At the sight of Remus, Fleamont says, "Ah, Remus, 'fraid we've got to put you up with Peter this summer. We've set up the attic bedroom for Lily and Jean, and then you four boys will have the floor below to yourselves."

"Sure, that's no problem," Remus tells him cheerfully.

The two of them cast hovering charms on their trunks and begin to follow the others up the stairs to their rooms. Once they're out of earshot of Fleamont and Euphemia, Remus mutters, "Gods, that's a relief. I never liked the attic room—there are all these big windows looking right up at the moon."

Hermione lets out a low hum of understanding. Upon reaching the landing, Remus follows the sound of cheerful whistling into one of the bedrooms, briefly turning around to give Hermione an encouraging smile. "Just keep heading up."

Even though the attic bedroom might not be Remus's cup of tea, Hermione is awed by it as soon as it comes into view. The ceiling is almost entirely made up of windows. She can already imagine how incredible the view will be as she falls asleep at night. She thinks, too, of how cozy it would feel on rainy days, the rain falling above her while she's safe and sound in her bed.

"It is beautiful," Lily says, as though aware of Hermione's train of thought. Hermione quickly turns to look at her and sees that Lily is already nearly finished packing everything into the wardrobe by her chosen bed, aided as she is by some housework spell.

"Reminds me of the Hogwarts ceiling," Hermione muses.

Lily grins. "Right, but we get to sleep under this one."

For a moment, Hermione is tempted to tell Lily of the opportunity she once had to sleep in the Great Hall, but she remembers herself before she lets anything slip. Of all things, the story's connection to Sirius would make it particularly awkward to reveal. So instead, she just smiles and nods. "You're right, this is better."

Almost as soon as Hermione goes about unpacking her trunk, Lily asks, "You're not going to unpack by hand, are you?"

"It won't take me too long." Hermione shoves all of her research under her bed, ignoring Lily's curious gaze. Perhaps when she's alone, she'll come up with a charm to conceal them from the others during her stay. "I find that it helps me to settle into a new place."

"Oh. Alright then. I'll tell the boys that you'll be down soon?"

Hermione smiles graciously. "Please do."

The moment Lily's disappeared from sight, Hermione stops fussing with her robes and drops onto her bed, letting out a sigh.

She is so very happy to be here. It's not a lie. She's happy that Remus wants her there, that James and Remus's other friends want to get to know her.

But she's grown so complacent with missing her life, and now she's beginning to feel the agony of it anew. Remus and his friends are a great comfort to her, but they are a sorry replacement for the friends that she's left behind. More than that, she can't shake the feeling that she doesn't deserve to get to know James, Lily, and James's parents. Harry deserves to be here, not her.

Furthermore, she's about to spend two months living with the boy who, in a few short years, will be the reason that Harry never gets to meet his parents. Perhaps he's already considering turning to the dark side, perhaps he already has.

Hermione is so lost in thought that she doesn't even hear the footsteps as someone makes their way up the stairs behind her. "Lots of progress on the unpacking, I see."

She spins around, already trying to think of an excuse, but the words die on her lips when she sees that it's Remus. Instead, she allows herself to beckon him over. "Sorry, I was just… thinking."

At first, he just hovers a few paces away from her, but then Hermione nudges her trunk over and scoots closer to it, allowing Remus enough room to sit. He takes the hint.

Before he can ask, she says carefully, "There are some things I know, where I… where I come from, that make this all very strange."

"That's ominous," Remus says with a light chuckle. But Hermione isn't laughing, and his expression grows somber. "Is it alright?"

Hermione doesn't say yes or no, just gazes down at the floor and tells him, "I probably shouldn't be here."

Remus leans forward, trying to catch her eye, and after a moment she resigns herself to looking at him. "Do you want to be here?" She nods. "Then stop thinking about what you _should_ be doing. Please."

She becomes suddenly aware that his hand is resting over hers, and she has no inclination to move away. Remus isn't looking her in the eye anymore, he's staring at her mouth, and just as she thinks to herself that she has absolutely no words for this moment—

"Moony, get a move on! My parents need everyone's help with dinner if we want to eat before midnight!"

As the two of them scramble to meet the James on the landing below, Hermione glances back at her half-full trunk and sighs. She does her best to ignore the flush that she knows is spreading across her face and building in her chest, but it's difficult, particularly with Dumbledore's words about "emotional attachments" ringing in her ears.


	8. Full Moon

On one side, the Potters' summer home overlooks the ocean, while on the other, it overlooks a vast forest which, according to James, goes on for miles and miles. After lunch on the day of the full moon, the boys trek into the forest in an attempt to put as much space between them and the cottage as they can manage.

"Aren't there other cottages around?" Hermione asks James before they leave. "You must be worried about running into other people."

James scoffs. "There are one or two other houses further down the beach, but we'll be long gone by the time the moon comes out, don't you worry."

But she worries anyway. After all of Remus and Sirius's talk of reckless behavior in their younger years, she can't help but imagine countless scenarios for how this could go wrong.

Lily's better at ignoring the time as they draw closer and closer to nightfall, no doubt because she's far more used to the situation. In contrast, Hermione is still surprised every time Remus appears after each full moon with new scratches and bruises.

The two girls move to sit out on the deck together, looking out at the ocean as they read—Lily some muggle novel, and Hermione some American notes on time travel experiments, which she successfully charmed to read as utter nonsense to anyone other than herself. At some point, Lily allows herself to look up from her book and catch Hermione's eye.

"You never get used to it."

"Hmm?"

Lily's brow furrows. She lays her book on the table, leaning forward in her chair. "I've been friends with Remus for seven years and known about his affliction nearly that long. You'll never stop worrying."

"I believe it," Hermione sighs. If only they'd hurry up and invent Wolfsbane already.

"James, Sirius, and Peter will keep an eye on him, though. You wouldn't believe how much of a difference they make."

Remembering a throwaway comment from _her_ Remus – in the future – she says, "They almost make it fun."

"Yeah," Lily says. She begins to smirk. "Not to say that I approve, of course, but it's nice that Remus hardly ever had to sleep in the hospital wing after his transformations once the boys finally became Animagi."

"Did you ever consider becoming an Animagus?"

The question makes Lily laugh. Loudly. She shuts her eyes and curls into herself as she giggles.

"No, no, I never wanted to. I wouldn't. I don't know how much Remus has told you about my relationship with all of them, but…" She hesitates. "James used to be quite a handful, and I didn't like him much then. I was mostly friends with Remus. By the time I started spending time with all four of them, they were already transforming with Remus, and there's something about it…"

Hermione waits for several moments to allow Lily to finish her thought, but she seems to be struggling to articulate an explanation, so she finally offers, "They all seem to be rather close."

"They are," Lily agrees. "And they've done everything they can to include me, but something about the full moon… that's theirs. I've never felt an inclination to become a part of it." Gazing up at Hermione thoughtfully, she asks, "What were your friends like? Back at Beauxbatons."

"My friends? Oh, well…" Hermione very nearly hems and haws herself off the subject – she's on the verge of blurting out random names of her classmates – but with an uncomfortable jolt, she realizes that it doesn't matter what she reveals about her friends, so long as she refrains from revealing any last names of wizarding families whom Lily might meet within the next few years.

And the thought of reminiscing about Harry and Ron… it's so very appealing. Remus has asked questions about them a few times, but never anything that she's really been able to answer. With Lily, though…

She feels her lips curling into a soft smile. "They're lovely. I wanted nothing to do with them at first, to be honest. One of them, Harry, he attracts trouble like you wouldn't believe, and it sort of drove me mad. But the three of us bonded when we fought a troll halfway through our first year."

"When you fought a troll?" Lily exclaims, clearly torn between bewilderment and amusement.

Hermione nods. "That's not even the strangest thing we've done, believe me. Ron's mum always says that we're too young to have already done so much."

"Do you hear from them often?"

"Not… not so much, no." Hermione's smile is frozen in place. She casts her gaze downward, and her voice is hollow when she says, "But if everything goes according to plan, I suppose I'll see them quite soon."

Clearly feeling sorry that she's hit a nerve, Lily murmurs, "I hope you do."

Although Lily refrains from asking any further questions about Harry and Ron, she and Hermione spend the next several hours discussing their childhoods, their favorite subjects in school, authors and music… The conversation brings with it a renewed awareness that Harry will never learn any of these details about his own mother.

That night, the two of them stay up far later than they mean to. Every five minutes or so, one of them glances out the window toward the forest unnecessarily. Eventually, though, Lily falls asleep, with one final recommendation to Hermione to, "Go to sleep soon."

But Hermione stays awake for hours, staring up at the full moon.

* * *

The boys come home at nearly lunchtime the next morning. All of them look exhausted, and Peter is limping, but they each sport a rather substantial smile, considering the circumstances. The Potters have spent all morning cooking, and Hermione quickly realizes why—the four boys are absolutely famished. She loses track of the number of times they refill their plates and also makes a rather large effort not to squirm at the eagerness with which Remus devours remarkably rare bacon and sausage.

After eating, as though as one, the boys yawn, rise from the table, and rinse their dishes in the sink.

"Bedtime," Sirius announces, and Peter and Remus nod in agreement.

James considers the matter before saying, "Lily, fancy a walk?"

In under a minute, Hermione is left alone with Fleamont and Euphemia. They're cheerful with her, chatting animatedly about the area surrounding the house. There's a small village nearby that Hermione has yet to see, and Euphemia suggests that she and Remus go once he's well enough.

"Maybe, yeah," For a brief moment, she allows herself to imagine her return to the future, but only long enough to picture Harry's face as she tells him, _Your grandmother tried to set me up on a date with Lupin_. ( _And I wanted to go_ , she adds privately.)

She retreats not long after that. Because Lily agreed to James's proposal for a walk, their bedroom is deserted. Regardless of her satisfaction with her choice to come on holiday, the time alone is a relief. Hermione has felt so much pressure to engage with the Potters and their guests, in a way that she hasn't felt with Remus for months.

While doing her research the day before, Hermione had found one of her most promising leads so far in her research. It describes an incident with a time travel device that was successfully repaired after the user tripped and dropped it. Despite the fact that she believes her own time turner was damaged as a result of a curse, rather than simple physical damage, this information is a start.

Time moves quickly after Hermione moves upstairs, the irony of which is not lost on her. She's mostly aware of its passing because of the movement of the shadows over the parchment that she's reading.

Eventually, she becomes aware that dinner must be fast approaching, if her stomach grumbling and the sun hanging low in the sky are any way to judge. She's just thinking about going downstairs to see if Fleamont wants help preparing dinner when she hears a loud 'pop' from right below her open window, followed by a rapid knocking on the door.

Hermione sets her research aside immediately, rushing down the stairs to see who had apparated. Euphemia opens the door just as Hermione reaches the second landing, exclaiming, "Alastor, what a surprise. Please come in. We'll be eating dinner soon, if you'd like to join us."

Alastor? What on earth is Mad-Eye doing, showing up at the Potters' summer home – by the sound of it – unannounced?

"Sorry, Euphemia, but I can't stay for long. Where's Fleamont?"

"Cooking in the kitchen with James, we can go join them. At least stay for a cup of tea."

"Well…" From between the stair rails, Hermione catches sight of Mad-Eye – she has to work hard to conceal her surprise when she realizes that he does not yet have the appendage that earned him the nickname – and sees the way he hesitates at the offer. "Perhaps just a cup, yes. Let's get a move-on, though. I've got quite a few house-calls to make tonight."

By this point, Sirius, Peter, and Remus have joined Hermione in the stairwell. As Euphemia leads Moody through the cottage into the kitchen, Hermione glances from Sirius, to Remus, to Peter—all of them are wearing equally bewildered expressions, which means that whatever his reason for coming, Mad-Eye's arrival is a surprise. This possibility is confirmed when Peter whispers, "Who the hell is that?"

She's spared the choice of having to feign ignorance or present information that she potentially will have no justification for having. Sirius pipes up and says, "That's Alastor Moody. Works at the Ministry as an Auror. All my mum and dad ever did was complain about him, so I reckon he's alright."

"Then should we…?" Remus gestures toward the staircase, and when Sirius nods, they trickle downstairs and into the kitchen.

Moody was clearly already in the middle of an explanation when Sirius leads the group into the kitchen, but as soon as the door opens, the Auror stops speaking, casting his gaze over the newcomers suspiciously. "Who are you?"

Even if his features are disconcertingly _unmangled_ , it's a relief to see that he's as straightforward as ever.

"Oh, these are just more of James's friends from school, Alastor," Fleamont says. "I'll gladly vouch for them."

For what feels like an eon, Moody scrutinizes all four of them. Hermione notices that somehow, he manages to give the impression that he's staring straight through her even without his magical eye. But they must pass his assessment, because he finally says, "Alright then, go ahead and sit down."

Hermione and the others join Moody, James, Lily, and Euphemia at the kitchen table. Fleamont continues to fuss over the stove as Moody starts in again.

"Right. As I was saying, Dumbledore would have come himself, but he's making some other arrangements at the moment, so he asked me to act as an envoy of sorts and pass on his message."

Euphemia leans in close and speaks with a lowered voice. "Which is what, exactly?"

"Well, Dumbledore's always appreciated your knack for potions," Moody begins carefully, nodding toward Fleamont. "And your clever wandwork, Euphemia. And both of you have always been sympathetic to his cause, willing to provide him with any assistance that he might require, so he thought you might be interested in his newest venture."

Now he lowers his voice, but it doesn't seem particularly comical to Hermione anymore, because she has a strong suspicion that she knows what Moody is about to say.

"He's created an organization called the Order of the Phoenix. Our sole purpose is to fight Voldemort, try to put off his advances."

"Yes," Fleamont exclaims immediately. In his excitement, he drops a spoon into a pot of soup with a loud clatter, and he utters a few choice swear words under his breath as he tugs his wand out of his pocket to retrieve the spoon without burning his hand.

Euphemia has a more temperate reaction, albeit not due to her lack of interest. "We'd both be glad to join, I'm sure, although we're not as spry as we once were." She glances over at Fleamont with a sad smile. "I don't know how much help we'll really be."

"You'd be surprised," Moody mutters gruffly. "That's a yes, then?"

Both Fleamont and Euphemia nod.

"Excellent. I'll let Dumbledore know."

Moody takes a final, large gulp of tea and rising to his feet, but before he can bid them farewell, Sirius asks, "Hang on, can we join?"

"What?" Moody frowns, looking over to Euphemia. "How old are they?"

"We're all out of school," Lily tells him, her eyes bright and eager. Remus and James are both wearing similar expressions. Hermione notes that Peter looks neither excited nor worried—he just seems to be in deep thought.

"I – that is to say, I'm not sure…" He glances at all of them again. "I suppose Dumbledore did mention…"

"Mention what?" James asks eagerly.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "He mentioned that the Potters' kid had some friends here with him, and they might be interested, but I can't imagine… You really don't know what you'd be getting yourself into."

Sirius scoffs loudly, causing Moody to shift his gaze in an instant. "His inner circle is made up of my first and second cousins, mate. I know exactly what I'm getting into."

"Your first and second cousins…" Moody echoes. He squints at Sirius more closely. "You must be Alburga and Orion's boy. If you want to join up because you fancy a go at your family, don't bother."

"That's not what I meant, I was only—"

"I know what you meant, boy, don't panic. Alright, Dumbledore didn't give me any instructions to refuse you if you volunteered, so I suppose you're welcome. Are all of you interested?"

Hermione watches as everyone nods. The excited energy emanating from James, Lily, and Remus is remarkable, and even Peter looks determined now.

Of course committing to the Order of the Phoenix isn't an inherent problem. While she's around, she might as well do everything she can to help keep Voldemort's forces at bay. But the rational part of her mind remembers that any energy that she devotes to the Order will be _more_ energy that she isn't devoting to repairing her time turner.

That said, Hermione supposes that if Dumbledore doesn't want her help, he will tell her so.

She sees Moody's eyes on her and instead of nodding, she says, "Yes, I'm interested."

Prior to leaving, he introduces himself to each of the kids in turn. He shakes Hermione's hand last, giving her one final penetrating stare before he says goodbye and makes his exit.


	9. A Late Night

Alastor Moody's departure does nothing to mitigate the flurry of excitement at the dinner table that evening. James and Sirius bombard the Potters with questions about Moody and beg them to speculate who else Dumbledore is trying to recruit to fight against Voldemort. Fleamont appeases their curiosity a little bit, eventually drawing their attention away from the Order by telling the story of a special favor that he did for Dumbledore years before James was born, while Grindelwald was at the peak of his power.

They sit around the dinner table together for over an hour and a half before Euphemia sighs and rises to her feet, asking everyone to clear their plates while she puts their leftover food away. Hermione queues up behind James and Sirius to put her dishes into the sink, and she doesn't realize that Remus is behind her until he breathes, "Can we go for a walk?"

She looks back at him just long enough to smile and nod. So as soon as they've done their part in clearing up the kitchen, they grab their cloaks and venture out into the dark.

Hermione nearly makes her way toward the forest, but she realizes in time that Remus probably doesn't feel particularly compelled to go back in there just yet, so she heads toward the beach instead, allowing Remus to direct their walk.

In the days since they arrived, Hermione and Remus have had hardly any time to talk alone. It's not that she's been making a pointed attempt to avoid him, per se… But after the moment when he nearly kissed her – she really doesn't think she's being paranoid to say that that's what nearly happened – she hasn't exactly objected to any opportunities to keep some distance between them.

Not that she doesn't want to kiss him, or do whatever else that kissing might lead to. In fact, it's more of a problem that she does want to. Very much.

And he's been so very gracious about it, which if anything has made it harder for Hermione to stay away from him. But now he's bridged the gap between them, and she's having difficulty imagining why.

"Have you had enough chocolate today?" she asks when she concludes that Remus is waiting for her to break the ice.

For a moment, it seems like he's going to say something snarky, but he considers the question for a moment before sighing and pulling a half-eaten chocolate bar from inside of his cloak. "Probably not," he concedes, taking a fairly large bite.

"It's funny to see you grumbling about it right now. I remember you being so insistent with Harry after—" No. What is she thinking? She can't tell him about the time a dementor came onto the Hogwarts Express… there are so many details about his future contained in that miniscule story. "—after he fainted," she concludes lamely.

Remus watches her curiously for a few moments, lips quirked into a small, hopeful smile. When she doesn't give him any further details, he doesn't look disappointed, but she can tell that he's filing the detail away for later.

"I'm able to give others great advice," he tells Hermione. "I'm just rubbish at taking care of myself."

She nods slightly, chuckling. "I've noticed. So how about this: I know you probably pulled me away to ask me something, so if you finish that chocolate bar, I'll promise you an answer."

"You don't even know the question yet."

Hermione shrugs. "Fine with me."

Remus practically devours the rest of his chocolate. When he finishes the last bite, he makes to crumple up the wrapper and stuff it in his pocket, but Hermione asks, "Could I see that for a moment?"

With a tap of Hermione's wand and a murmured incantation, the wrapper folds itself into the shape of a bird, which begins to flutter around Remus and Hermione's heads. He lets out an eager laugh. "What's this for?"

"It's fun," she offers. Plus she wanted to make him smile. He never smiles enough right after the full moon.

And Remus does smile. He grins wide, watching the wrapper fly around them for a few more seconds before redirecting his attention to Hermione. He's still smiling, but his tone is very serious as he asks, "Did you already know what the Order of the Phoenix is before Moody came here tonight?"

Hermione knows that, all things considered, this is a very easy question. "Yes."

"Did you ever meet him?"

She refrains from pointing out that she only promised him an answer to one question. "I did."

"What about… me, James, Lily, Sirius, Peter… all of us deciding that we wanted to join the Order, did you know that we would do that?"

This question only gives her pause for a fraction of a second. "Yes. I didn't know it happened this soon after Hogwarts, though."

"Oh." The first three questions were rather quickfire, but Remus thinks for some time before asking, "Why did you hesitate before saying that you wanted to join?"

"Because Dumbledore already thinks I'm too distracted. He came and talked to me right at the end of term about keeping my focus on my research. He wants me back where I belong."

The phrase puts an ache in Hermione's chest, and judging by the way that Remus looks down at the ground for a good ten seconds or so, it doesn't hit him too well either.

"He shouldn't be able to complain," Remus says slowly, "because as long as you're here, anything that Voldemort does… it affects you too. So you should have every right to fight with us. And it's not like he can argue you wouldn't be of any use—you're one of the most brilliant witches I've ever met, and that's not even counting your rather remarkable tactical advantage."

Hermione feels herself blushing deeply; it's suddenly a relief that they're out walking in the dark. "I can't do anything with my knowledge of the future."

"Right. That's why we're not counting it."

She smiles at the ground. Glancing back down the beach, she notes that the Potters' cottage has nearly faded from view; it remains as little more than a light on an otherwise pitch black beach. Remus follows her gaze, then he asks, "Want to stop for a little while?"

"Yeah, alright."

Before Hermione can settle into the sand, Remus shrugs off his cloak and lays it on the ground.

As they sit down, Hermione tucks her hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around her broken time turner. She feels rather silly carrying it around with her everywhere, but she can't really bear to tuck it away, either. She pulls it out of her pocket, staring at it blankly. "Do you know, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for my class schedule."

Remus sniggers. "For your class schedule? You… did you honestly just have that thing so you could go to your classes?"

"Maybe." When Remus starts to giggle, Hermione can't help smiling. "It seems so silly now, I know."

"How'd it get hit by that curse, though? You must have been very careful with it."

She grimaces. "I can't tell you that. I'm sorry. But I… I think you knew that it was going to happen. _Will_ know when it's going to happen," she corrects herself.

"Really?" he breathes.

There's a moment where she almost does tell Remus about the future. Not all of it, but she finds that she's suddenly bursting to talk about the future, about how terrified she is that the battle will not work out in their favor, that after so much effort, Voldemort will win. She wants to tell him that in part, she doesn't mind that she's stuck in 1977 because at least she knows how this war is going to end.

Instead, she allows herself to lean just a little bit closer to him. "Yes. Just a few minutes before I came back in time, you and I ran into each other and you tried to warn me about it. I think you were trying to make sure I didn't come back in time."

"Why the hell would I do that?" Remus whispers. His fingers graze hers, and when she doesn't move away, he covers her hand with his own.

"No clue," Hermione admits. She's been wondering about that since she arrived.

Their faces must only be a few inches apart now. Remus's head is ducked low, he's staring at her so intently. Hermione can feel her heart in her throat as he says, "Future me is a moron."

And then he's kissing her. There's a sort of desperation to it that she didn't expect, something about the way that he curls the fingers of his free hand into her hip and presses up against her. But her own eagerness takes her even more by surprise. She's spent so long trying to ignore her feelings for Remus, and now it's hitting her so intensely.

When Remus continues to press into her, Hermione allows him to push her down onto his cloak. Meanwhile, she grazes her tongue along his teeth experimentally, and she smirks against his mouth when he lets out a low groan.

They kiss for what feels like a second and an eon, somehow occurring simultaneously. Remus is the one who finally pulls away to take a deep breath, although he continues to pepper kisses across Hermione's jaw. She's reluctant to open her eyes, feeling content to remain settled right here, away from… everything. When she does look up at him, her stomach flips—Remus is staring at her so fondly.

"Was that… alright?" he asks.

Hermione nods, biting her lip.

"Okay, then I think we should give it another go," he says, smiling. "Would that also be alright?"

"Yes please." She grabs at Remus's neck to pull him closer, lifting up her head to meet him.

After some time, they lie back together, looking up at the stars. Occasionally, one of them will roll over onto their side to share another soft kiss, but for the most part, they remain content to just… linger at each other's sides, chatting intermittently.

"Do you think we should go back soon?" Hermione asks him eventually.

"No, let's just stay right here."

She scoffs loudly. "The full moon was last night, Remus. I'm sure you need more sleep."

He groans, rolling over and burying his face in her neck. "Just a little longer."

Even though she knows that they really should get back to the Potters' house, Hermione sort of understands why he might not want to. Right now, they don't have to fret over Hermione's broken time turner or Voldemort. "Okay," she murmurs.

Remus takes a deep breath. "I don't want you to leave."

For a moment, Hermione considers not responding, but she finds that she doesn't want to keep quiet. "I don't think I want to leave. But Dumbledore…"

"I know."

They fall silent after that; neither speaks again until Remus sits up and says, "Alright, I'm ready to go if you are."

As they near the cottage, a large dog comes bounding up to them. Remus lights up at the sight, laughing eagerly. "Padfoot, what are you doing?"

James and Lily come out of the cottage to meet Remus and Hermione, and James says, "We were about to go out looking for you. You two have been gone for nearly three hours."

"Have we really?" Hermione asks, absent-mindedly petting Padfoot's head when he nudges at her hand.

Lily nods. "Just about."

"No wonder I'm so exhausted," Remus muses. "I think it's time I went to bed."

Padfoot immediately moves over to Remus, running back and forth in front of him and bouncing up and down on his hind legs, and Remus groans. "Sirius, c'mon, I'm tired."

But Padfoot keeps everyone outside until Remus has provided him with a nice scratch behind the ears. After that, he dutifully moves aside; Remus makes his way upstairs, Hermione following in his wake. When they reach the second floor landing, he glances down the stairs and catches sight of James and the others, all trying to sneak a look at Remus and Hermione's interaction.

"Well, g'night," he says, making sure that his voice carries down the stairs.

"I hope you feel better in the morning," Hermione tells Remus. She, too, is well aware of their audience. She's rather pleased that he seems to be equally exasperated.

That said, before he retreats to his room and she makes her way up to the attic, he reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle, lingering squeeze.

Lily arrives not much later, while Hermione is still getting ready to go to bed. She doesn't say anything at first, but eventually she strolls closer to Hermione's side of the room and asks, "So, did you and Remus have a good walk?"

"Mhm. What did you do while we were gone?"

"James and I played a few games of chess. Then I read a book while he, Sirius, and Peter sat around speculating about where you and Remus had gone off to."

"Sounds about right," she laughs.

"Did you have a good time?"

Hermione looks up at Lily. "Very much so."

So Lily nods, smiling gently. "Glad to hear it."


	10. Into the Village

**A/N: Hi all. Thank you to everyone who's given this story a shot so far and reviewed, favorited, followed, etc. I'm hoping to get chapters finished with an alarming sort of regularity, because I've got this wild idea that I can get the story at least most of the way finished before I start school at the beginning of September.**

 **Since some updates will be rather quick, I'd like to take this opportunity to encourage you to always double-check and make sure that you've read each previous chapter prior to reading any updates.  
**

* * *

Remus has been staring up at his ceiling for the past half hour.

Faint voices and laughter echo up the stairs from the kitchen below, but he's so reluctant to enter into the maelstrom of breakfast. Last night, his friends lost interest in hearing about his evening in detail as soon as they learned that he hadn't slept with Hermione, which was something of a relief – he rather liked the idea of keeping the whole night between them. His desire to avoid everyone downstairs can more accurately be attributed to just how… drained he feels.

His transformation left him more exhausted than he wants to acknowledge, even though he knows that Hermione and his friends have been around for enough full moons to know that yesterday, he'd worn himself thin. After dinner last night, he should have gone right back to sleep, and now he's paying for it.

It's not only that, either. The hours that he spent with Hermione last night filled him with an unimaginable warmth and energy, but now, that initial joy is overshadowed by a feeling of dread.

Somehow it's got to go wrong.

Even if Remus ignores the obvious – that Hermione is a time traveler currently attempting to return to her own time, 20 years in the future – he has difficulty picturing a way that they can remain happy like this for long. They're living in a world where people are perpetually in fear of being betrayed by their friends and loved ones, or of losing them at Voldemort's hands.

As a werewolf who remains sympathetic to Dumbledore, Remus is the last person Hermione should be tethering herself to in such a world.

He tries not to think that way, because he knows that Hermione doesn't care… but he cares.

Then there's the fact that apparently, 20 years in the future, he will try to stop Hermione from coming back to this point. She alluded to this fact so casually, so he nearly forgot about it, but it's been driving him mad all morning. He longs to know what can possibly happen between now and then to make him want to stop her, because from where he stands right now, she's probably the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Suddenly, Remus hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly rolls over so that he can pretend to be asleep if he doesn't feel like speaking to whoever's coming to check in on him.

Floorboards creak as the person steps in. "Remus, you awake yet?"

He wonders who suggested that Peter come up to him, because he has difficulty imagining that Peter would want to check up on him of his own accord. From the smell of it, he's brought food.

Well, that's alright then.

"Yeah, yeah." Remus opens his eyes and gives Peter a tentative smile as he sits up. "Morning."

"I come bearing breakfast. Mr. Potter did a fry-up."

Remus's face lights up as he exclaims, "Oh, good." All of Fleamont Potter's cooking is delicious, but his fry-ups are legendary among his son's friends. He claims that he simply does it when he's lazy and has yet to do the shopping for the next week's cooking, but from where Remus and the others stand, they often end up being some of the most delicious meals the boys will eat while they are at the Potters' house.

Peter hands over the plate of food, and Remus begins to devour it eagerly. Peter continues to linger in silence for a few moments. "What do you think about this group that Dumbledore's started up?"

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Remus takes a minute to chew thoughtfully before saying, "I think it sounds like a great idea. It's about time that someone stood up to Voldemort."

"Sure, but… what if it's not enough?"

"Maybe the Order won't be enough, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. No matter how things turn out, I don't want to be around… 20 years from now, wondering whether things would have turned out better if I had been willing to make the hard choices."

"I suppose that's true," Peter mumbles. "Thanks Moony."

"Of course, mate," Remus replies, not quite sure what Peter is even thanking him for.

After that, Peter starts to chatter on about the plans that everyone has apparently been making downstairs in Remus's absence. Their plan to spend the day in the nearby village is far from the most desirable scheme that James and Sirius have cooked up—because of his reckless behavior the night before, Remus is still rather exhausted, and he also doesn't care for the forest at the best of times, so having to cut through it to reach the village so soon after the full moon will no doubt make him squirm.

But, on the other hand, if Hermione wants to go, it could be another opportunity to spend a few warm, comforting hours alone in her company. This is a prospect which he finds _desperately_ appealing.

So once Remus has finished his meal, he says, "Wormtail, I think I'm up to come along. Can you tell the others to wait for me while I get dressed?" Peter assures him that they'd be happy to wait, and retreats with Remus's empty dishes while the young werewolf scrambles out of bed and peers into his wardrobe.

He wishes he had more Muggle clothing. His parents are not exactly poor, but they have never earned much money, meaning that their money has always gone toward his Hogwarts supplies and robes. He's mostly managed to accumulate his Muggle clothes by saving up his own pocket money.

That said, for Remus's birthday, his mother had surprised him with a gift of a new Fleetwood Mac tee-shirt. Since the day when he learned that Hermione is from the future, he has developed a renewed enthusiasm for the band that they had so tentatively bonded over, and his mother took this excitement to heart after he requested their newest album in a letter.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, Remus notes how peaky he still looks, but he can't help smiling at his reflection. With his ragged jeans and Muggle band tee-shirt, he feels that he looks almost cool.

Everyone is waiting in the Potters' sitting room when he gets downstairs, all of them also dressed for their outing. James exclaims, "Blimey, Moony, took you long enough," but Remus hardly hears him; he catches Hermione casting her gaze over him, then looking him in the eye and grinning. He grins back.

"Let's go, then," he tells James.

For the fun of it, Sirius turns into a dog again almost as soon as they've entered the forest. He amuses the others by chasing birds and bringing Peter a stick, wagging his tail eagerly until his friend dutifully throws it for him to fetch.

"What's the village like?" Hermione asks Remus once the amusement of Sirius's antics has faded somewhat.

Remus chuckles. "Not too great, to be honest. We usually only go once or twice before we get bored, and now that we can all legally apparate, I expect we might just start going to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley when we fancy a day out. It's alright, though. A fair number of people have summer houses around, both wizards and Muggles, so there are some decent shops and cafes."

"Sounds nice enough." She glances over at him with a soft smile. "I like your shirt, by the way. It looks good on you. My dad gave me one just like it for my fifteenth birthday."

"Yeah?"

Hermione nods, her smile growing. "Mine's a bit old and faded, though."

It's likely that she expected this to draw a laugh from Remus, but he doesn't know quite what to think of it. He wishes he could go more than five minutes at a time without being reminded that their situation is far from normal. Glancing up at James and Lily, who are happily strolling along with their hands clasped, he feels a rush of brief but intense envy.

"I'm sorry," Hermione mumbles. Remus looks over to her. He begins to feel better as soon as he sees her expression—she looks so concerned. "I thought it was funny."

"No, it is, I just… I forget how strange this is. I want to feel like we're on the same footing, but we're… not. You know so much that I don't know."

She grabs for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "If it helps at all, my parents have probably only just met."

Remus raises his eyebrows. "Surprisingly, that doesn't really help."

Then Hermione settles her free hand on his cheek and leans in close to kiss Remus softly. When she pulls back, his eyes are closed, and he's smiling a little bit now. "That helps some."

He holds her hand more tightly after that.

It takes about twenty more minutes for the group to reach the outskirts of the village, and another five for them to get to the first road of shops. Almost immediately, Lily catches sight of a pretty dress in a shop window and pulls James in along with her to have a look at it. Sirius and Peter disappear soon after into a Muggle music shop, leaving Hermione and Remus alone.

"Where would you like to go?" he asks her. "There's a nice coffee shop down this road a ways."

She's considering this suggestion when she catches sight of something else. "What about that bookstore?"

"Brilliant idea," Remus says, smirking.

There's no one in the shop except for a bored twenty-something perched at the counter in the front of the shop. He's perusing a Superman comic—catching a glimpse of the cover, Hermione thinks she recognizes it from her parents' collection. The boy looks over the top of his comic book and examines Hermione and Remus briefly. "Hi," he grunts. "Can I help you?"

Remus cheerfully says, "We're just looking, thanks."

For nearly two hours, they browse together. Eventually, they leave with a few selections each. Remus fumbles with the Muggle money, scrutinizing the bills with an unnecessary amount of concentration before handing over his payment. While the cashier is bagging up Remus's purchase, Hermione mutters, "Isn't your mum a Muggle?"

He grins bashfully over his shoulder. "We always just exchange her money, so I only use Muggle money when I'm here with James."

"Wizards," Hermione scoffs.

After leaving the bookstore, they do make their way to the coffee shop that Remus mentioned. Hermione suggests that they sit outside, and Remus agrees eagerly.

"Does it bother your mum that you don't know about… Muggle things?" Hermione asks as they sit watching tourists and locals shuffling down the street.

"Not really." Remus stirs his coffee thoughtfully. "She shares some stuff with me. Mostly music. We used to go to a lot of concerts, but she got sick a few years ago and it's been hard since then."

Hermione's eyes widen, and she immediately gets very quiet. "She what? But I thought… I thought that was just your excuse for your disappearances during the full moon. Your mum really is ill?"

"I mean, she wasn't at first," he mumbles. "It was near the end of fourth year. She got black cat flu, which isn't much trouble for a wizard, but Muggles… it's deadly. Not immediately, but it kills them eventually."

Leaning her elbows on the table between them, Hermione grips both of Remus's hands hard. "Thank you for telling me."

"Just don't tell James and the others, alright? They feel sorry enough for me without knowing that my mum will be lucky if she lives another six months."

With a dutiful nod, Hermione disregards the tears prickling in her eyes in order to say, "So if you never really lived like a Muggle, that means you probably wouldn't know much about what my parents do. They're both dentists, have you ever heard of those?"

"No, do tell," Remus says. He's appreciative for the change of subject, and thoughts of his mother are all but pushed from his mind as he listens to Hermione's eager stories about her parents' work repairing Muggle teeth.

Sirius and James find them in that same spot almost an hour later. By this point, their glasses are long forgotten. Hermione has moved her chair around the table so that she and Remus can read one of their new books together, interrupted by only brief arguments about their page-turning speed.

"You two alright?" Sirius asks, and it's only then that Hermione and Remus truly process the presence of their friends.

"Mhm," Remus says absently, looking back down at the book almost as soon as he's acknowledged Sirius and James with a nod.

James tries after that, asking, "So are you two ready to walk home?"

"Not quite," Hermione mutters.

"After this page," Remus adds.

"Okay…" Sirius and James turn to look at each other; Sirius rolls his eyes.

Another twenty seconds pass in complete silence before Remus says, "Alright, fine, I'm done. Want to read the rest after dinner?"

Hermione looks like she'd like nothing more, but James pips up and speaks first. "Great, I'm glad to see that you two have been enjoying yourselves. If you want to stick around, it wouldn't be a problem."

"No, no, I think I'm about ready." Glancing over at Hermione, Remus wishes that he could say otherwise, but as it is, he knows that he should be taking better care of himself as he tries to recover from the moon. "Where are Lily and Wormtail?"

"They're trying to haggle for some record. We figured we'd come and find you, but now we can go see how they're getting on."

Remus and Hermione share an amused glance the moment they walk into the music shop. Lily has nearly scared the vendor out of his wits. She's got a bag in her hand with all of her records, making all of her friends wonder precisely what she's yelling at the cashier for if she's already made her purchase. Peter, who has been watching in awe, is all too happy to fill them in.

"He tried to give her a discount for being pretty," he announces. "That was nearly ten minutes ago. She's been letting off steam since."

"Discount for being pretty?" James exclaims. Despite his better judgment, this fact immediately compels him to rush forward into the fray. To Hermione's surprise, Lily looks pleased that James has jumped in. Meanwhile, Hermione glances over to Remus, who looks neither bored nor impressed.

Under her breath, Hermione says, "My mum always told me that I should feel no shame in accepting discounts for any reason, but I don't think I'd take that offer either."

Remus replies, "Do you think he'd give _me_ a discount for being pretty? There's this Led Zeppelin album I've been wanting…"

"It wouldn't hurt to try."

Whether Remus would have actually tried for that discount, Hermione never finds out (although she suspects, rather proudly, that he would have), because before they can meander over to the Led Zeppelin records, Lily turns away from the counter and huffs loudly. "Alright everyone, let's go."

"Maybe next time," Hermione tells Remus with a grin.

On the walk back, Sirius starts to grumble about the distance almost immediately. "Why can't we just apparate?"

James sighs. "Because, Padfoot…" But then he trails off, looking around. The trees do a remarkable job of shielding them from view of any Muggle houses. "Hang on, I suppose we could. What d'you reckon, should we?"

"There's no harm in it," Sirius says.

"You did say that you just didn't want to apparate here in case we appeared too close to some Muggles, but there's no one around now," Lily adds.

It appears that they've talked themselves into it rather easily. But with a glance at Hermione, who is in turn looking up at him thoughtfully, Remus pipes up, "I think we'll just walk." The prospect of hanging around in the forest is much more appealing with her by his side.

"Are you sure?" James asks, looking between Hermione and Remus. "It's going to be dinnertime soon."

"We have plenty of time," Hermione assures him.

Only thirty seconds later, James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter have all disapparated, leaving Remus and Hermione alone in an otherwise quiet forest.

Remus blinks down at her. "Shall we get a move-on, then?"

Hermione hesitates. "I mean, we _have_ got plenty of time, haven't we?"

"Sure, probably an hour at the least." He's begun to smile now.

"Very good, then."

Within moments, Remus is kissing Hermione. There's nothing unnerving about the forest when she's there for him to cling to. They stumble over twigs and roots, trampling numerous small plants on their way to a nearby tree. Hermione's back hits the rough bark and she gasps into Remus's open mouth, causing him to giggle.

She recovers quickly, though, her fingers weaving into his hair as she kisses him with a renewed vigor.

Remus's heart is stuttering in his chest, his mind is racing. He longs to—

One of Hermione's hands inches beneath his tee-shirt and grazes a large gash on his stomach. It's not fresh, but it's still only a few months old, and as soon as her fingers brush over it, Remus practically leaps away from her.

"Wha—" She stares at him, her eyes wide. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

He shakes his head carefully. "No, no, it's just…" Remus's shirt is already covering his torso, but he tugs at it self-consciously anyway.

"I don't… I don't care about your scars, Remus," Hermione whispers.

"But I do, alright?" He's breathing hard now. Running his fingers through his hair, he stares down at the ground. "They drive me mad. I thought I'd be okay with you—" He falters. "But I don't think I am. Not yet."

"Okay." Hermione takes a few tentative steps closer to Remus, reaching out for him. When he doesn't move away, she straightens his shirt where it's riding up a bit. "Can I at least tell my friends I got your shirt off?"

Remus finally cracks a smile, laughing as he buries his face in her shoulder and lingers there. He presses a kiss to her skin where her jaw meets her neck. "Let's go home."


	11. The Order of the Phoenix

**A/N: Hi all. Thank you to everyone who's given this story a shot so far and reviewed, favorited, followed, etc. I'm hoping to get chapters finished with an alarming sort of regularity, because I've got this wild idea that I can get the story at least most of the way finished before I start school at the beginning of September.**

 **Since some updates will be rather quick, I'd like to take this opportunity to encourage you to always double-check and make sure that you've read each previous chapter prior to reading any updates.  
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* * *

In the third week of July, the inhabitants of the Potters' summer home are outside eating dinner together when a shimmering light appears out of thin air a few feet away. As everyone watches, the light begins to take shape, finally forming itself into a phoenix.

"Blimey, what is that?" Sirius exclaims.

No one has a chance to reply. The translucent phoenix has flown closer to the table. As it hovers above them, it begins to speak. "Your presence is requested at the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Please be prepared to depart at 6 o'clock on Saturday the 23rd, at which point an envoy will arrive with a Portkey to bring you to the meeting's designated location."

The phoenix bows to the table before dissipating into nothing.

Silence hangs over the group for some moments. "So does anyone know?" Sirius asks at last.

"Dumbledore's patronus," Hermione answers automatically. Everyone at the table turns to look at her, all rather surprised. Remus looks to be the least bewildered, although his eyes are wide; his expression bears a certain sense of urgency that makes her press on. "I mean to say, I've heard that his patronus is a phoenix, so… I guess he can use it to pass on messages." By this point, she's only barely speaking above a whisper.

"Can he really?" Fleamont asks with great interest. "I'll have to ask him to show me."

"And me," James adds. Looking eagerly at one another, he and his father have rarely looked so much alike as they do in this moment.

"Who told you what Dumbledore's patronus is, Jean?"

Lily voices the question, but it seems she's not the only one wondering: Euphemia and Peter in particular are watching her curiously as well.

Hermione swallows hard. "Professor Slughorn mentioned it to me once. He found it interesting because so few patronuses are magical creatures."

"Yes, that is rather interesting," Remus agrees, grinning. Hermione has no doubt that he's remembering a conversation that they'd had approximately a week before, during which she'd mentioned the exact same fact as a point of interest. "Do you know what else I like about patronuses, though? They can change form depending on how the witch or wizard is feeling. Maybe yours will change to a hedgehog someday, Prongs. Or an overzealous slug…"

James snorts. "Not likely. I'm proud of my stag, thank you very much."

As the conversation strays away from Dumbledore's message and toward the patronuses of those sitting around the table, Hermione gives Remus's knee an appreciative squeeze which is concealed from view by the tablecloth. She suspects that he will ask her where she really learned about Dumbledore's patronus next time they're on their own, but there shouldn't be any harm in acknowledging that she saw it once. He just needn't know that it was at a quidditch game at Hogwarts, of all places.

The following Saturday seems to take weeks to arrive. At every meal, the Order is a topic of conversation. Everyone is curious about who else has been invited to join and eager to know what Dumbledore is planning.

When the day comes, though, Hermione finds herself feeling remarkably nervous. She's still worried that Dumbledore is going to object to her attempt to join the Order, and now she's got the secondary concern that he'll observe the change in her relationship with Remus… because somehow he always knows.

Remus comes up to Hermione and Lily's room at about 5:30 that evening. Both Lily and Hermione are reading, but they look up at the sound of Remus's footsteps. At the sight of him, Lily clears her throat and shuts her book. "I think I'll go see what James it up to."

"No, you don't have to—"

Lily smiles graciously at Remus. "It's alright. I was going to go after I finished this chapter anyway."

"As long as you're not leaving on my account."

She stands on the tips of her toes to peck him on the cheek. "Of course not, I would never." She ruffles his hair before walking past him to the stairs.

Now alone, Remus makes to sit down at the end of Hermione's bed, but she scoots over to make room for him, patting the empty space. "Don't be ridiculous. Come sit here with me."

He does, with only a brief moment of trepidation. Once he settles in, though, he wastes no time in curling into her, resting his head on her shoulder and curving his body to match the position of hers. "What are you reading?"

"The last book that might help me to get home."

Remus goes a bit stiff at these words. "Any luck?"

"Not yet." His hand rests on the bed between them and Hermione grabs ahold of it. "I don't know what I'm going to tell Dumbledore."

"What do you want to tell him?"

Hermione hesitates. She wants to tell Dumbledore that she wants to stay, but she knows that her presence in the past is dangerous. She knows that she needs to stop justifying each action by reminding herself that in her past, it has all already happened exactly as it will play out now.

And the longer she remains, the more hurt Remus will be when she does have to leave; the more difficult it will be to look him in the eye when she returns to the future… and that's if he's even still alive at the end of the battle.

Instead of answering his question, Hermione admits to a new thought that has been nagging at her for weeks. "What if it doesn't matter that I can't fix mine? Ministry-sanctioned time turners will be released in a few years, what if…" But she finds that she can't even voice the end of her question.

Luckily, Remus is able to draw out her intended meaning. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

"Cross…?" she asks.

"No, no, burn. I'm intentional with my idioms," he tells her.

Hermione doesn't ask him what bridge they'll be burning. Instead, her mind has strayed in another direction as she looks toward the stairs down which Lily has just retreated. "You told Harry once that Lily was probably the best friend you ever had."

"Oh, really?" Remus exclaims. "Interesting. Well, I suppose that's fair."

"Yeah, I've certainly noticed that you get on really well, and I think it's really nice. It makes me miss Harry… we got on in sort of the same way, I think."

Remus chuckles. "Why do I sense a 'but' coming on?"

"But," Hermione continues, smirking when Remus laughs more eagerly. "You never really mentioned how you got so close. We heard all about you becoming friends with James, Sirius, and Peter, but not Lily."

"That doesn't surprise me," he admits. As he sits up straight on Hermione's bed, he meets her gaze, his eyes sad. "My first year at Hogwarts wasn't particularly pleasant, so if I was trying to tell stories that Harry found interesting, I imagine I might have just… skirted around the subject."

She frowns. "If you don't want to talk about it—"

"No, no." Remus rushes to reassure her and places his hand on her shoulder with what he hopes is a gentle smile. "I'd be glad to tell you all the gory details."

"If you're sure…"

He's almost defiant when he curls back up beside Hermione. "I'm trying to think of where to start. I suppose… Well, when I first came to Hogwarts, I was rather scared to become friends with anyone. You'll remember that we moved around a lot when I was young—" Hermione nods: they'd had the conversation about his rather isolated upbringing months ago. "But that had a consequence that my parents didn't really expect. I'd managed to pretty thoroughly convince myself that things would be easier for me and for everyone else if I didn't allow myself to grow close to anyone."

"Oh no, Remus…" Hermione begins to speak, but before she can decide on words of encouragement, he plows on.

"It was lonely," he continues simply. "I lived in a dormitory with James, Sirius, and Peter, and I saw how they were together and I wanted to be a part of it, but I didn't think I could be. Even if I let them befriend me, they'd figure out I was a werewolf soon enough and then they certainly wouldn't want anything to do with me. But somehow Lily was… she managed to…" Remus trails off multiple times while he tries to sort out precisely what he wants to say.

"She saw how lonely I was, and she made sure that I never had an excuse to isolate myself, at least not completely. She studied with me a lot by pretending not to know the answer to obvious questions. When we were at meals at the same time, she made sure that I didn't sit by myself, even if she did all the talking. I didn't deserve it. Not because I'm a werewolf," he says more loudly, because Hermione is trying to protest. "It's just that I was very rude to her. I did everything I could to get her to leave me alone and it didn't work. It was all very annoying at the time."

Hermione laughs. "Good for Lily. What changed, then?"

"Eventually she wore me down. After that, I figured that if she wanted to hang around me, maybe I could befriend James, Sirius, and Peter too. I'm very lucky that she wouldn't let me push her away. Who knows where I'd be without her."

"Who knows where any of us would be without her," Hermione murmurs. She thinks of the day when Harry told her and Ron that Voldemort might never have fallen if it weren't for Lily's sacrifice. Hermione had always been so aware of what had done for the wizarding world, but she had never given much thought to the ways in which she could have changed the lives of the people around her in small, easy ways.

Remus heaves a loud sigh. "Necessarily cryptic?"

"'Fraid so." Hermione ducks her head so that she can peck Remus on the lips by way of apology, but he kisses her harder, leaning into her with a hint of aggression that takes Hermione by surprise. She responds almost immediately, though—she grabs for his hip, trying to press into him and pull him closer all at once.

Vaguely, from so far away that Remus almost thinks that he's imagining it, he hears the 'pop' of a wizard apparating. He stops kissing Hermione as abruptly as he began, and with a low sigh he buries his head in her chest. "Did you hear that?"

"Mhm. Must be time to go. I wonder who's come to fetch us." She smooths a hand through Remus's hair where she's managed to rumple it.

It takes him a few moments to stir; he seems so intent on staying right there, and Hermione can't really blame him. When Remus does sit up, he pauses for a moment before giving her one final, lingering kiss.

"Let's go before they come to yell at us."

They're halfway down the steps when Sirius appears. "Oh, good, you heard. They're coming, Prongs!" he adds, loudly enough for his voice to carry downstairs.

As soon as they get to the entrance hall, Hermione's stomach drops to her feet. A man is standing there, chatting with Euphemia Potter, but he turns around when he hears Hermione, Remus, and Sirius coming.

"Hello," he says cheerfully. "I'm Ted Tonks."

Remus takes Ted's hand right away, introducing himself with a small smile, but Hermione hardly hears him. She hardly hears herself as she mumbles her own name.

Since her arrival in February, she has been plagued by memories of the world that she's left behind, but there's one thing that, until now, she's managed to ignore. Twenty years from now, around this very date, Remus is going to marry someone else.

Ted has always struck her as so cheerful and engaging. Now, he stands in front of her as the most tangible reminder thus far that for some reason, whatever this _thing_ is that she's started with Remus, it's going to end.

Luckily, they're in a rush to leave, so no one notices Hermione's sudden discomfort except for Remus. As they crowd around the Portkey, he rests his hand carefully on her elbow. So low that no one else could hear, he breathes, "You alright?"

"No," Hermione admits. A moment later, the Portkey wrenches them off their feet.

She doesn't know where she expected them to go – she knows that Sirius's mother is still alive, so it's not as though they're going to use Grimmauld Place as their headquarters – but when they land, she doesn't recognize her surroundings.

James recognizes it, though. "Isn't this Frank and Alice's place?"

"Good eye!" Ted exclaims as he leads them toward the door. "So you've been here before."

"Only me and Sirius. We came to their housewarming party when they moved in."

"I see. Well, Dumbledore's hoping to pull together a more permanent location. In the meantime, we'll probably be moving around quite a bit."

Hermione feels Remus's hand at the small of her back. No doubt, the gesture is supposed to reassure her, but as it is, it just makes her feel sad.

They shuffle in behind Ted, James's parents bringing up the rear and glancing behind them as though they expect an ambush. Two people are standing right in the vestibule, in shadow at first because of the dim light. But then Ted says, "Evening, Albus, Minerva."

"Ted." Albus gives him a slight nod. "No trouble setting up the Portkey, I assume?"

"None at all."

"Wonderful. Why don't you show everyone into the sitting room? We're expecting Andromeda, Alastor, and Kingsley's groups soon."

But as soon as they begin to file through the vestibule, Dumbledore's attention shifts to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, may we share a word before the meeting?"

Remus pulls his hand away from Hermione as though he's been shocked, but when she glances toward him, he looks totally nonchalant. "Of course, sir. Right now?"

So while Ted leads everyone else into the Longbottoms' sitting room, Remus follows Dumbledore into another room, glancing back at Hermione one last time before Dumbledore gently shuts the door.

As soon as they reach the sitting room, Remus's friends begin whispering. "What do you reckon that was about?" and "Is he in some sort of trouble?" and all sorts of other questions echo from all around Hermione. For her part, she's wondering all of these things herself, but she's also not sure whether she wants to know why Dumbledore's singled Remus out.

Then Remus reappears, and she knows that she needs to know. He hadn't been exactly cheerful before, but at least he'd been smiling. Now he's got a sort of dead look in his eyes. When he claims the empty seat beside Hermione, she smooths her hand over his back; he doesn't pull away, but he doesn't lean into her touch either.

She takes the opportunity to ask him about it when the next crowd of people comes in. While everyone around them begins to exchange introductions with the new faces, she leans over and asks, "What was that about?"

When Remus responds, his lower lip quivers just slightly. "He wants me to seek out werewolves. To appeal to anyone who seems conflicted about Voldemort." His tone is verging on disdainful.

"What?" Hermione feels her own voice shaking. "Does that mean you have to leave?"

"Yes."

"When?"

He swallows hard. "The beginning of September. The full moon's at the end of August, so I can take a few days to rest, but then…"

But then.

"I don't want you to go," she whispers, echoing his words from a few weeks before. Has it really only been a few weeks?

Remus's hands twitch in his lap, as though he's about to reach out to Hermione, but at the last moment, he tucks them into his pockets instead. "I don't want to go."

A man comes to stand in front of Hermione, and she finds herself looking up at a much younger Kingsley Shacklebolt. As he introduces himself, his low, easy voice is one of the most reassuring things she can hope for in this moment. Glancing at Remus, though… she can tell that he's not so lucky. He looks like his whole world has come crashing down on him.


	12. Eavesdropping

Remus refuses to reveal the details of his private conversation with Dumbledore to anyone else. Somehow, it doesn't strike Hermione as a surprise; everything about him suggests that he'd want to put off worrying his friends until the last possible moment.

He won't talk to Hermione about it, either. Again, this doesn't surprise her. As long as they don't discuss it, neither one of them has to voice the question that she knows must be on both of their minds: could this possibly be because Dumbledore is trying to sever Hermione's attachments to 1977?

Every time she starts to think that way, she immediately feels unnecessarily self-involved. Dumbledore wouldn't put Remus in unnecessary danger just because he believes that Hermione's timeline needs to be set straight. That said, she doesn't want to disregard the possibility that it might be a contributing factor, so the question stays with her well past the first Order meeting.

The next meeting falls on the same evening as the full moon, so Lily, Hermione, and James's parents leave the boys behind to attend. It's a welcome distraction from the persistent worry that she felt during the last full moon.

At the end of the meeting, she sees Dumbledore trying to catch her eye. Feeling a growing sense of dread, she excuses herself from a conversation with Alice Longbottom in order to follow him.

Dumbledore leads her through to the kitchen. He shuts the door behind them and, after a moment's consideration, also cats a silencing charm on the doorway before looking to Hermione. "Miss Granger," he says by way of greeting.

"Professor."

"I wanted to take an opportunity to ask you about your research. How have you been faring?"

 _Not as well as you would like_ , she longs to tell him. But instead she says, "I've found some leads, but nothing that's helped me so far. I believe that my time turner was hit by a curse, and unfortunately it seems that no one's sorted out a problem to make them operational again after an instance like that."

He looks at her thoughtfully, and Hermione experiences that familiar sensation that he knows precisely what she's thinking. "Well, I'm pleased to hear that you are still looking for a solution."

She wills her face to fall. "Not anymore. I've read everything that I brought with me to the Potters' house. I finished the last book last week, the day after the Order meeting."

"I see. I was concerned that might happen. In that case, I will make plans for your continued work at Hogwarts. I will also ask my acquaintance in the Department of Mysteries to keep me apprised of any updates in their research, particularly that surrounding the effects of curses."

"Thank you," Hermione says softly. It would be so easy to ask about Remus, to ask why Dumbledore wants Remus to put himself in so much danger. To scold him, perhaps, if it has anything at all to do with her.

"Of course. Is there anything else on your mind?"

Hermione furrows her brow. "No. There's nothing else."

Again, he scrutinizes her in silence for a few seconds longer than she thinks is necessary. But he doesn't push her. "Very well. Please wish the Potters and Ms. Evans a good evening."

Lily doesn't ask Hermione any questions about her private conversation with Dumbledore, as the boys had done with Remus, but she feels very self-conscious about the way that Fleamont and Euphemia look at her the rest of the night.

The next morning, the boys return home earlier than they did after the previous full moon. Fleamont still hasn't finished preparing their breakfast, so Remus slinks into the bathroom and takes a long shower. Ever since her conversation with Dumbledore, Hermione has been itching to talk to him – about anything, just so long as she can hear his voice again – but she doesn't even have the opportunity to exchange greetings before he disappears.

Consequently, she settles down on the stairs beside the bathroom, sitting in silence to wait for him.

She holds up a chocolate bar as soon as the door opens, and Remus smiles weakly at the sight—not because he's unamused, but because of how exhausted he is. "For me?"

"For you."

Remus sits on the step beside Hermione. He claims the bar of chocolate and eagerly unwraps it, but once it's open, his first move is to snap off a piece to offer to Hermione. "How'd the meeting go last night?"

Hermione feels tempted to refuse – Remus should probably eat the whole thing – but his eyes are so earnest that she takes the piece with a soft smile. "It was alright. Alastor got some intelligence about a Death Eater operation that will be taking place early next month, and Dumbledore wouldn't let Fleamont volunteer to go on the mission to stop them… so breakfast might be a bit tense."

"Noted," Remus chuckles. "Who _is_ going?"

"Kingsley, Frank, and Alice. Lily volunteered her and James, but she wanted to confirm it with him before committing for sure."

Remus considers this, then murmurs, "Do you think Dumbledore said no to Fleamont because he's—"

"Older? I was wondering that. He seems to respect Fleamont and Euphemia's input on a tactical level, but if anything goes wrong… I wouldn't blame him if that is why."

Silence falls for some moments as Remus chews a large bite of chocolate. "Well, James will be excited. He's been itching to jump into the fray. And all the better if it might be dangerous, of course. Anything else of note?"

For a moment, Hermione doesn't want to tell Remus about her brief conversation with Dumbledore. But she considers how readily he revealed Dumbledore's intended mission for _him_ , and she finds that she doesn't want to keep it a secret. "Dumbledore asked me about my research. I couldn't tell what he was thinking when I told him that I've run out of materials; he's so impossible to read." She finds that she's coming to understand Harry's frustration with the man in a way that she never quite did before.

"That figures," he mumbles. "Did you talk about anything else?"

"No. He's single-minded with me: he wants to make sure that I get home and wants me to get up to as little as possible in the meantime."

"Good job with that." Remus is trying to sound teasing, keep his expression neutral, but there's a hint of bitterness in his tone that Hermione finds quite unnerving.

"Remus… I want to stay here with you. You know that."

"Do I? You've done a pretty good job of qualifying those promises so far. Dumbledore can't _make_ you do anything, can he? If you want to stay here, what's stopping you?"

She stares at him. No doubt he's been biting his tongue, desperate to ask this for ages. It kills her, because she's at such a loss that she asks, "So you're going to refuse to go on your mission too, then? Since you don't want to go."

"That's not fair," Remus mutters, looking down at the floor.

Yes, Hermione knows it. She swallows sharply. The fact of the matter is that Remus has every right to be scared for his life, but Hermione… she's scared to face the consequences of her presence in the past. She's scared to face a battle that Voldemort may very well win. "You're right," she breathes. "I can't talk. Maybe I'm just a coward."

"No, that's not what I meant," he exclaims, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "Gods, I hate this. I didn't want to pick a fight with you. I was excited to come home and see you, I didn't…"

Hermione shakes her head. "Don't say that. It's… it's justified. But hey." She nudges Remus's knee with her own, and she speaks her next words softly. "I missed you."

Remus manages to crack a smile. "I missed you."

She gestures in the general direction of the kitchen. "Do you want to go eat, maybe talk about this more on a full stomach?"

"I like the sound of that." He polishes off his chocolate bar before jumping to his feet and holding out his hand to help her up.

As soon as they reach the first floor, Remus realizes that their bickering was overheard: Sirius and Peter are in the sitting room, right where he left them, but they're staring at him and Hermione in bewilderment.

"Did you say Dumbledore's sending you on some mission?" Peter asks.

"I—"

"And did you seriously tell Jean, but not us? Not that you don't seem lovely," Sirius amends, looking over at Hermione. "But we've known you for years, Moony. You should know by now that you can tell us anything."

"Yes, I do know that." Remus speaks calmly. For the first time in months, Hermione is reminded, rather jarringly, of the mild-mannered teacher that she first came to know in her third year.

Sirius frowns, running a hand through his hair. "Then how come you didn't want to tell us about whatever this… this thing is that Dumbledore wants you to do?"

Remus glances over at Hermione, evidently considering something carefully. "I suppose I was putting it off. I was going to tell you before I had to leave, but I didn't want to worry you."

Peter and Sirius stare at Remus for a few moments. When he doesn't elaborate, Sirius finally asks, "Well, now we're probably more worried than we would have been if you'd been honest with us right away, so will you tell us?"

"Tell you what?" James asks as he and Lily appear in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Dumbledore's given Remus a mission," Peter informs them. "He's got to go away."

"He's done _what_?" Now both Lily and James are wearing the same flummoxed expressions.

Lily and Sirius both start talking at Remus, but he doesn't let them go on for long before exclaiming, "Oi! Shut it, please."

Everyone in the room goes still.

"At the beginning of September, Dumbledore wants me to start traveling. He's come to understand that there are a fair number of nomadic werewolves who remain out of Voldemort's control, and he wants me to appeal to them. To at least implore them to stay out of the fight, if they're not interested in coming onto our side."

None of his friends seem to know what to say. Lily's the one to finally speak up. "Is he mad? You're only just out of school, he can't send you out on your own to roam the countryside… Even if the werewolves that you encounter aren't openly hostile, there's still any number of other things that you could come up against."

"This is why I was avoiding this conversation. I'll be fine."

Hermione remembers how he shook as he revealed Dumbledore's request to her, but she supposes the last thing his friends need to know is how scared he is. Although he hasn't voiced his concern aloud to her, she suspects that Lily is wrong: based on Remus's hatred of the wolf inside of himself, nothing would terrify him more than encountering other werewolves, some of whom are undoubtedly proud of what they are.

As they eat, Remus's friends dominate the conversation with grumblings about Dumbledore's request, but Hermione and Remus sit in almost absolute silence. It's only when Remus rises from his chair that Hermione grabs for his hand to stop him. "Are you going up to nap?"

"Yes. Why?"

She hesitates, biting her lip. "Would you come and sleep in my room? I'd just… I'd like to know that you're right there. And then we can talk when you're feeling up to it."

If he thinks this an odd request, he hides it well; Hermione believes that his smile is genuine when he nods. "Of course."

Hermione only takes another five minutes or so to eat before she goes to join Remus, but when she reaches the attic room, she finds that he's already fallen asleep. Her heart goes out to him, and she immediately regrets getting into such a disagreement with him when he was in such poor shape. She only feels this more strongly when she sits down on her bed and, even in his sleep, he immediately moves closer, his hand reaching out across her bedspread as though trying to grab her.

Without a second thought, Hermione takes Remus's hand in her own, grabbing a book from her bedside table to read. Every so often, she glances away from her book, toward his sleeping form, and allows herself to smile.

To the empty room, she announces, "I'm going to stay." It's as though Remus is struck by the impact of her words even as he's sleeping, because he moves even closer to her.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks as always for favorites, follows, and reviews! _Jimmielee_ , I was pleased to see your review because of my plan for the beginning of this chapter, but if you're underwhelmed by my choice to keep it ambiguous, fret not—your answer will come eventually. :)**


	13. Cusp

The Potters' house becomes a different place when Lily and James leave on their mission for the Order. Only the day after James and Lily's departure, Sirius decides that he wants to go to Hogsmeade, and Peter invites himself along. The two leave late in the morning with vague promises of "We'll be back eventually."

Euphemia and Fleamont are antsy, too, glancing out the window every two seconds. They both go to bed immediately after dinner, although Hermione hears one or both of them pacing back and forth across the room well into the night.

Despite the fact that this essentially leaves Remus and Hermione with free reign over the cottage, the two of them retreat to the attic bedroom as soon as they've finished eating. They've been spending quite a bit of time up there since the full moon, to such an extent that Remus has fallen asleep beside Hermione on more than one occasion. The first time, he awoke embarrassed, but Lily was downstairs in James's room, and Hermione was quick to reassure him that she appreciated his company.

Since then, he's rather liked it.

"What do you think Sirius and Peter are up to?" Hermione asks him.

"Probably picking up girls. Peter's a pretty good wingman when he wants to be. Though they said they were going to Hogsmeade, and when you put the two of them together, they tend to prefer the Muggle villages."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You're joking."

Remus laughs into her shoulder before kissing it softly. "I only wish I were. Sirius has always liked showing off his magic tricks."

"Maybe they've left Hogsmeade and gone to a Muggle pub."

"Since they still aren't back, I wouldn't put it past them." He turns the page of the book in Hermione's hand. "Thank Merlin you're here, or I'm sure they'd have roped me into going along with them."

Hermione shuts her book, nearly catching Remus's fingers as she looks down at him with a smirk. "Really? So you would have impressed the Muggle girls with magic, too?"

"Perhaps," he allows. "But I doubt it."

"Why?"

"I generally preferred to sit back and read while I waited for Sirius to make a fool of himself. It never took too long. So unless there was a _very_ pretty girl there…" When Hermione scoffs, Remus gives her a toothy grin and kisses her jaw. "Only teasing."

She sets the book down on her bedside table, turning to look at him. "Does this mean that they'll probably be gone for a while longer?"

Remus's eyes light up as he takes in her playful smile, as he notes the way she's leaning into him. "I suppose so."

"Excellent."

He grabs for her waist at the same moment that she presses against him. Hermione giggles into Remus's mouth when he pulls her into his lap. As he moves to kiss her neck, she murmurs, "I get the impression you've been waiting for a chance to snog me."

"I'm always waiting for a chance to snog you," Remus breathes.

She shuts her eyes and lets out a low sigh. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Hermione loses her patience for Remus's slow, easy kisses across her throat; she fumbles for his jaw and tugs him into a sloppy kiss, tracing her tongue through his mouth. She feels so warm, so blissful as Remus moves his hands tenderly over her back.

When his fingers brush her bare skin where her blouse is riding up, she sighs again, relishing in the familiar feeling of goosebumps in response to his touch. But then he's fingering at the bottom button. "Can I take this off?"

"Yeah, of course." Hermione pulls back immediately, looking down and watching as he undoes each button with shaking fingers. This is not the first time he's expressed a desire to get her shirt off, but it seems as though on each occasion, they've been interrupted. Never before have they been in a position when they seem to be facing no deadline.

She shrugs her shirt off and tosses it aside as soon as Remus has undone the last button. He's frozen, casting his gaze over her in silence, and Hermione can't help but giggle when she grabs his neck and pulls him to her for another kiss. She tries to lie down on her bed, tries to pull him along with her, but he stills, holding up his hand. "Hang on."

Before Hermione can ask why, Remus sits back on his knees so that he can tug off his own tee-shirt. He tries to duck down immediately to reinitiate their kiss, but she rebuffs the advance, sitting up too. "Remus, wait. Please."

Remus swallows nervously, but he allows Hermione to stare at him. It's a few moments before she reaches out a hand and touches his skin, tracing her fingers over a wide white scar that cuts across his pectorals. "How long ago did you get this one?"

"My first full moon at Hogwarts." His voice is quiet. "It was one of the worst transformations I've ever had."

Hermione gives him a slow, careful nod before moving her eyes over the rest of his scars. She touches another one on his side, directly below his ribs. "What about this one?"

"Sixth year. Prongs gave me that one," Remus says, a hint of genuine amusement in his voice. "I don't really remember it, but apparently he ran at me head-on."

"Goodness." Hermione cringes.

When she falls silent, Remus leaves a space for her to strike up further conversation. She doesn't take it, though, so he says, "Look, Hermione, if you're trying to make a point—"

"No, that's not what I'm doing."

Remus just raises his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not!" Hermione exclaims. She continues to smooth her hand over his chest, looking down at the scars and bruises rather than meeting his eye. "I know that you don't like this part of yourself. I'm not trying to make you. But you wouldn't… you wouldn't be you without these scars, so I still want to know them."

"You're such a sap," he mutters, but when Hermione looks at his face, he's smiling slightly.

She smiles too. "We can stop talking about them now; I'd like you to snog me some more."

He doesn't need to be told twice—now when Hermione lies on her back, Remus allows her to pull him down too. Their breathing grows shallower as Remus moves from her mouth, pressing sloppy, wet kisses all along her neck. He sucks experimentally at a spot along her clavicle, relishing in the way she gasps and arches up against him.

As Remus reaches Hermione's bra, he fumbles to push it aside and she rolls her eyes. "Hopeless. Let me." She sits up again for just long enough to illustrate how to get her bra off, and it joins the pile of clothes on the floor.

There's a comfortable, giddy sort of heat steadily building in their guts. When Remus kisses Hermione's stomach, she giggles eagerly, swatting at his head to get him away from a particularly ticklish spot. Occasionally he'll stop kissing her so that he can look her over again, at which point he'll lick his lips and peck her on the nose, cheek, eyelids before returning his attention to her neck or breasts.

For once in their lives, time seems to be of no consequence: it could easily be days later that Hermione rests her hands at his waist and breathes, "Let's get these trousers off."

"You sure?" Remus's eyes are wide. "I haven't—"

"Nor have I, but I expect between the two of us, we can _probably_ work it out." Her tone is teasing, and when he blushes, she laughs aloud.

Even after they've discarded the last of their clothes, it's some time before Hermione straddles Remus; they fuck slowly, Remus clutching her hips to hold her steady as she moves over him. She wears an expression of such intense determination, and the sight is so amusing that Remus bursts out laughing.

"You don't have to excel at everything right away," he teases before grabbing her neck so that he can kiss her frown away. "Just have fun."

That said, when he climaxes before her, Remus lays Hermione down and settles himself between her legs and with her guidance – so specific at first, gradually devolving to gasped exclamations of, "There," and, "Yes," – he makes sure that he leaves her trembling and weak with her own orgasm. As she comes undone beneath him, Remus cannot imagine how any woman could possibly be more stunning than she is right then.

* * *

When Remus wakes up the next morning, it's not immediately possible for him to tell what time it is. The sky above them is dark and overcast, so that it could easily be just after dawn or nearly noon. Hermione is still asleep beside him—she's mumbling in her sleep, something unintelligible about hippogriffs. Rolling onto his stomach and resting his head on his arms, he contents himself with watching her still form.

Since he was bitten, Remus has assumed that he will never have a chance at the same sort of happiness that James and Lily have, that he has no doubt Sirius and Peter will find some day. There are any of number of reasons that he's got on his mind to prove that he can never have that life.

Hermione makes him wonder whether he's always been wrong. Not that he'll ever tell her so: even as he feels his heart pouring out to her and embracing her, he falls asleep every night wondering whether the next day will be their last day together.

It's not enough that she _wants_ to stay with him… that perhaps (he sometimes allows himself to hope) she wants a future with him just as much as he wants one with her. Her uncertainty with their relationship tells him that whatever his future holds, she is not a part of it.

And still, he allows himself to daydream about growing old with her. Imagine that, a werewolf growing old at anyone's side.

Footsteps echo up the stairway from the floor below, followed by a muffled voice that he processes as belonging to Sirius. So they did get home last night, although it certainly wasn't before Remus and Hermione showered and fell asleep.

Remus squeezes his eyes shut and tries very hard to tune out the noise. If anything, it gets louder—he can hear Fleamont speaking now, too. When he opens his eyes again, Hermione is blinking at him sleepily.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Remus holds up a hand to stop her. He presses a quick kiss to her lips. "Sorry, I've been wanting to do that since I woke up."

Hermione blushes. "Does it sound to you as though Sirius and Fleamont are arguing?" she whispers.

Remus nearly denies it, but he can't ignore the fact that they both seem to be raising their voices. He sits up on his elbows, trying to listen more closely. "I think you're right," he agrees at last. "But I can't… I can't hear them."

It takes only a few moments of Hermione blinking at him expectantly before he mutters, "I'll see if I can get a better sense of it."

He withdraws from under the covers, feeling very disgruntled, although he smirks to himself when Hermione makes a low noise of approval. To her, he only makes a face as he tugs on his pants and tee-shirt.

The voices become clear at the top of the stairs, and he sits on the top step to eavesdrop, arriving just in time to hear Sirius say, "—could've put them in more danger than they were without you checking in."

"Dumbledore said he'd be checking in on them too," Fleamont exclaims. "What's the harm if I just ask my son to keep me updated?"

"No problem at all, but asking him to check in every five hours is overkill. He's out of Hogwarts, Monty, and if Dumbledore thinks he's ready for this mission, then you should trust him. It's not like he's alone—he's got Lily there, and Kingsley and the Longbottoms. They're all incredible with a wand, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course I do. I don't like it, though, Sirius. I should have heard from him almost an hour ago, I—"

Remus's eyes widen and he glances back to Hermione, who's sitting up in bed now, watching him with great interest. He hesitates for a moment, but he figures that he's gotten the gist of the disagreement, so he rushes back into bed.

"Sirius seems worried that Fleamont's being overprotective of James and the others, but Fleamont seems to think it's justified because James hasn't been in touch with him for a while…"

Hermione furrows her brow. "Normally I'd agree with Sirius, I don't like that Fleamont's drawing extra attention to them… but that is a bit worrying."

"I don't like the sound of it either," Remus sighs. "Maybe we should…" He gestures vaguely toward the stairs, and Hermione nods, albeit with great reluctance.

She dresses quickly. By the time they make to go downstairs, Sirius and Fleamont have moved their argument to the sitting room on the first floor, where Hermione and Remus find everyone waiting around in an anxious silence. Every once in a while, Sirius or Fleamont will snap at each other, but as time stretches on and they continue to hear nothing from James, they seem to get too nervous to bicker.

Then they hear a 'pop' outside, followed by James's voice shouting, "Mum, Dad, a little help out here!"

Everyone rushes outside immediately. James is the only one on his feet; looking around, Remus sees Lily and Kingsley on the ground, both of them wearing agonized expressions. James seems to be stooped over Lily's leg, and Kingsley is clutching his side.

They all rush forward at once: Euphemia and Hermione move to join James at Lily's side, and Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Fleamont rush to examine Kingsley.

"What the hell happened, Prongs?" Sirius asks.

Kingsley's the one who answers. "Alastor's intelligence was incorrect. We believed that we might encounter a few death eaters, but the mission that we went to interrupt was being led by Voldemort himself. He had some of his strongest followers at his side."

A chorus of gasps and exclamations of, "What?" and, "Voldemort?" and, "No!" fill the air, but Fleamont shushes everyone. "Let's get them inside, and then you can explain. Now, are their wounds magical or non-magical? I should have some potions at home—"

While Fleamont fusses over the injured Lily and Kingsley, everyone else helps them inside. Fleamont apparates home to retrieve the necessary remedies for Lily and Kingsley's injuries, and he returns only moments after they've gotten situated on the beds in Remus and Peter's room. As soon as Lily and Kingsley have been seen to, they retreat back downstairs so that a rather shaken James can explain what happened.

"I don't think they knew that we were there," he says carefully, as though aware of the question on everyone's minds. "We were under the impression that Voldemort wanted some of his death eaters to kidnap Dorcas Meadowes, and our hope was that by lying in wait, we'd be able to subdue them and Kingsley would be able to make an arrest. Bring down his numbers a bit, you know."

"But Voldemort came?" Euphemia breathes.

James nods. "I didn't recognize any of the people he had with him, but Kingsley identified them to us and said by the looks of it, Voldemort wanted Dorcas a lot more than he was letting on. And he… he didn't know we were there, like I said, but we… we couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Frank and Alice knocked out the blokes that were guarding the house, but once we got inside… Well, by then he'd figured out that we were there, and he was waiting for us. He must have already gotten his information out of Dorcas, too, because she was—"

When James falters, swallowing hard, Fleamont gasps. "He didn't."

"She was dead," James confirms. "He only had two death eaters with him inside, but even five on three, it's a wonder we made it out as well as we did. Frank only had a bloody nose."

A hush falls over the sitting room. Euphemia is the first to speak. "I can't believe Kingsley didn't abort the plan or call for reinforcements."

James stares at her. "Mum, are you mad? He couldn't risk drawing extra attention to us. We're probably still here because Voldemort was genuinely surprised. Kingsley made the right choice. It was our best chance, and Dorcas's, too."

"Did Dumbledore and Alastor know there was a chance that you would be in that much danger?" Fleamont asks. "They shouldn't have sent you if they thought there was even a chance… you're too young, James, you and Lily and even the Longbottoms—"

Sirius, Peter, Remus, and Hermione all share a look before getting up in unison and retreating outside onto the beach. There's a stain of blood in the sand where Kingsley appeared, and Remus clears it away silently while everyone else tries to tune out James and his parents' shouting.

It's nearly an hour later that James comes out to join them where they're sitting in the sand. "My parents are mental. I tell them that we successfully took on Voldemort, and their first reaction is to say that Dumbledore shouldn't send any of us on missions."

"They're just worried about you," Remus murmurs.

James scowls at the ground, but considering the fact that he doesn't argue, it seems that he's at least aware of this.

"Were you scared?" Peter asks.

"Of course we were!" James exclaims. The shock of Peter's question actually makes him laugh. "We were terrified, we were saying all of these things—" He frowns slightly as something occurs to him. "Padfoot, how would you fancy being best man at my wedding?"


	14. The Wedding

Fleamont and Euphemia think James is joking at first when he tells them that he and Lily are engaged. It's not until the next day, when Lily is recovered, that she's able to confirm it.

"It was all a bit frantic," she acknowledges. "But you meant it, right James?" When he nods, she smiles. "Very good then. Me too."

The days seem to move very quickly after that. Lily and James are immediately determined to get married before Remus has to leave at the beginning of September. Because they also have the full moon to work around, they have just over a week to make arrangements.

Hermione feels very self-conscious as the wedding plans evolve around her. It's something about the fact that she's managed to stumble into a deeply intimate part of Harry's parents' life. She could probably recount James's proposal word-for-word; she could describe Lily's wedding dress search in great detail.

Nothing else has felt quite so invasive.

They don't invite all that many people—the Potters' summer home isn't large enough to accommodate much of a crowd, and their plans are so last-minute that they figure it's a good excuse to keep it a rather small affair.

One afternoon, Hermione walks into the kitchen and find Lily and James immersed in an in-depth discussion about whether she should invite her parents and Petunia. James looks to her for help as soon as she walks in. "Jean, don't you think your family would want to be at your wedding?"

"I… I'm not sure," she stammers, looking quickly to Lily. She wishes there were a way that she could respond that accounts for what Harry has told her about Petunia and Lily's relationship without making it particularly obvious. "Probably, I suppose. They'd probably like the option, at least."

When Lily's parents agree, and Petunia says no, Hermione is in no way surprised.

Remus accidentally wakes Hermione up early on the morning of the wedding. The day starts off astonishingly clear, the sun shining in through the large windows above them; it figures that it should retract behind the clouds just as Remus resigns himself to the fact that he's wide awake and stumbles out of bed to shower.

He makes it back upstairs and finds Hermione sitting up, leaning over to check her watch on the bedside table. "Why are you up so early?" she asks him.

"Too sunny," Remus grumbles. She looks up at the gray sky with raised eyebrows. "It _was_ too sunny," he amends.

"Mmm." Hermione nods, smirking.

Remus crosses the room in a few strides. He leans down to kiss Hermione, and she immediately rises up to meet him. She threads their fingers together and pulls away just far enough so that she can mumble, "Come back to bed."

"Do you believe that the sun was out?"

She glances up again; the sky's only gotten darker, but she smiles graciously. "I suppose."

"Fine then."

He crawls over Hermione to reach his side of the bed, chuckling when she exclaims, "Hey, your hair's dripping."

"Maybe you're imagining it. Like I imagined the sun."

Hermione swats at his stomach as they curl up.

They lie quietly together for some time. A drizzle of rain starts, which picks up at a steady pace. The shadows from the rain drops on the windows create intriguing patterns across their skin, and Remus is tracing over a particularly delightful sort of swirl the crosses over Hermione's nose when he asks, "Is this weird for you?"

"Is what weird?"

"Being here for the wedding."

"Oh, that." Hermione gives him a hesitant smile. "Yes. I'm happy to be here, because I've been here long enough that I'd definitely call them friends, but when it comes down to it…"

Remus nods. "They're Harry's parents," he says softly.

"Yes." She bites her lip and considers him for a moment before asking, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"This is happening so quickly because they wanted you to be able to come. Does that bother you?"

At Hermione's question, Remus grimaces. "Yes. I lost track of the number of times I tried to talk them out of it. Their wedding's important, they shouldn't be doing it on my terms. And not even my terms," he adds, a hint of exasperation peeking through his mild tone. "It's the full moon's terms, it's Dumbledore's terms, not mine."

"We're in the middle of a war," she points out gently. "There's not much about our lives that _is_ on our terms. If Lily and James planned their wedding to make sure that you could be there, you should trust that that's what they wanted. Don't feel weird about it."

"Sage advice," Remus muses. He buries his face in her neck and inhales deeply. "Can I remind you, then… As far as James and Lily are concerned, you belong here. So don't feel like you're invading on anything."

Hermione squeezes her eyes shut. "Right. As far as James and Lily are concerned."

"And me," he adds with a chuckle. "But we're talking about _their_ wedding. My opinion doesn't matter."

Yet she doesn't believe him, not quite. Not that he would talk about her time travel in an overt way when there's any chance of being overheard – they've been very careful ever since Sirius and Peter heard their discussion about Remus's mission – but both of them have been pretty intent to avoid the subject since they last got into an argument about it. If he's anything like her, though, the thought of the future's probably been nagging more than normal because of the wedding.

"I do belong here," Hermione tells him.

Despite the fact that she was by no means whispering, there's a moment where Hermione wonders whether Remus genuinely didn't hear her. But then he moves away from her, sitting up and running his fingers through his still-damp hair. "No, you don't. I want you to, I wish you did, but you… you don't."

Hermione quickly sits up too. She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls. "Yes, I do. This is where I belong. Right here with you."

"I want to believe that," he whispers.

Neither of them seems willing to change the subject, but neither of them wants to get into another argument about whether Hermione's bound to leave him, so they sit in a silence that they can't bear to break.

She's the one who finally speaks. "I don't know what's going to happen between us in the future, Remus. I know it drives you mad, all the stuff I know… but I can't say what will happen to us any better than you can."

"That's what's so terrifying," Remus mutters. He's speaking with an urgency that surprises Hermione. "It's been ages since I wondered about all of the other shit. All of those years, everything you've seen… I'll catch up eventually. But is this…" He gestures between himself and Hermione. "A blind spot for you because it's a cleverly concealed secret from your younger self, or because something happens? Because you return home, maybe, or gods forbid because you die—"

Remus falters at this, his face crumpling just slightly. "It's terrifying," he reiterates weakly.

A wave of guilt rushes over Hermione. When she unfolds her arms and reaches out for him, Remus allows her to press her hand against his cheek. "I know. I'm scared too."

He covers her hand with his own and laces their fingers together, giving her a slow, tentative nod. "I think I forget that you have just as much reason to worry as I do. You know so much… what have you got to be scared about?"

Lily and James. Peter's betrayal. Sirius. The Longbottoms. A million other things, but somehow above them all, Hermione's scared about— "This."

"Yes," Remus agrees. "I've been holding it against you, but that… that's not fair. I'm sorry."

She feels tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. With a weak smile, she manages to say, "Thank you," but before she can summon any further words, she begins to cry.

Remus leaps into action at once, pulling Hermione into a hug. He leans back against the headboard and she moves with him. For quite some time, she sniffs into his chest, and he'll occasionally smooth his hand over her hair. Even after she's cried herself out, they're both rather reluctant to move.

"I love you," Remus murmurs. When she looks up at him and sees that he's staring down at the bedspread, she briefly wonders whether she misheard.

But Hermione nudges him, and as soon as he meets her gaze, she sees a warm, tender look in his eyes and there's no doubt in her mind that she heard him correctly. So she smiles, wiping at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "I love you."

His stomach twists. However much of a relief he expected those words to be, they… weren't. Satisfying, perhaps, a little thrilling, but in no way reassuring. Even so, he tilts her chin up so that he can kiss her softly.

"Oi, Moony!" Sirius's voices echoes up the stairs not long after. "Come down and help us set up the tent!"

It is with great reluctance that he leaves Hermione alone to shower and dress.

* * *

The wedding runs as smoothly as they could have anticipated with the last-minute rain. The ceremony itself occurs outside on the beach beneath a tent, after which everyone moves inside to eat and drink together. Once the dancing begins, people begin to filter between the cottage and the outdoor dance floor at their leisure.

Hermione is surprised by the number of Order members who came. At the most recent meeting, after providing a report on the events of their mission, James and Lily invited any members to attend who would not be away on their own assignments. McGonagall's presence is certainly the least surprising—both James and Lily were in Gryffindor, after all, so she'd spent the last seven years watching them grow up. During the ceremony, Hermione even spots her pulling out a handkerchief and discreetly blowing her nose.

The Longbottoms, too, seem to be obvious guests, as Hermione is becoming increasingly aware of a great friendship between the two couples.

But Kingsley and Moody also choose to attend, both of them more cheerful than Hermione has ever seen them. She's particularly delighted to witness a tipsy Moody dancing with James's great aunt later in the afternoon.

Even Dumbledore took Lily and James up on their invitation. His behavior during the festivities reminds Hermione, with quite a bit of fondness, of his engaging, enthusiastic demeanor.

Apart from a nod and a quick, "Miss Granger," Dumbledore pays Hermione little mind. He and the other members of the Order primarily seem to be eager to catch up with Fleamont's relatives, as all of them seem to know each other. Were it not for a select number of their friends from Hogwarts and Lily's family, it might as well be a reunion rather than a wedding.

The younger attendees are rather content with this dynamic, because it means that no one really notices when Sirius and Peter come to find Remus and Hermione in the early evening and ask, "Fancy getting out of here for a little while?"

Before leaving, they manage to steal Lily and James away from James's overbearing uncle. They grab three of the guests' umbrellas – "They won't miss 'em," Sirius insists – and begin to meander down the beach.

It's immediately clear that Sirius and Peter have been enjoying their share of drinks at the party, because they keep on nearly bumping into the couples to either side. But both of them are cheerful and energetic. With his guard down, Peter is less intent on pleasing everyone around him, and it makes him a hint more likable—or it would, if Hermione didn't know what he'll someday become.

"How does it feel to be Mrs. Potter?" Sirius asks.

"Undecided," Lily says brightly. "It was either the best or the worst decision of my life. Give me a few months to sort it out for sure."

James scoffs loudly while Sirius, Peter, and Remus giggle.

"It's certainly the best decision of Prongs's life," Sirius offers, to which James responds with a hearty, "Here, here."

"We've been rooting for you kids," Remus agrees, looking around Sirius and Peter to give Lily a warm smile.

"Yeah, I always figured James would be the first to tie the knot," Sirius declares sagely. "Now, Moony settling down next, that's a bit of a surprise. There's nothing as exhausting as a mate who thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy. Good on your for getting that idea out of his head, Jean."

Hermione glances toward Remus and notes the way he's staring at the ground, but he's smiling and blushing just a bit, so she figures that he's feeling more bashful than anything.

"Of course," she says softly. And Sirius is already off and running on the subject of Lily and James again, but Hermione likes the private thanks that she receives from Remus when he squeezes her hand.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that I've set up a new twitter for myself, specifically intended to chronicle the ups and downs of writing this joy of a fanfic. You'll probably see complaints about writer's block, but you'll also probably see me gushing about little headcanons that I'm fixating on that I can't manage to fit into the fic itself. So if you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over at twitter, too. :)**


	15. Recovery

James and Lily opt to delay their honeymoon for a while. Euphemia tries to convince James that this is ridiculous, but he shrugs her off. "Moony will be leaving soon, and Jean will be going back to Hogwarts for the start of term, so we might as well wait until then."

As such, September 1st becomes the official end date for the holiday for the entire group, not just for Hermione and Remus. The date seems to draw closer at a startling pace once they've settled on it. Sirius and Peter have begun to think about their future plans in earnest, which reminds Remus of the single benefit of Dumbledore's mission: it postpones his need to find work.

Full moon at the end of August is one of the worst Remus has had in ages. In the days directly preceding it, he feels uncharacteristically drained, a sort of exhaustion that he doesn't generally experience until the day following the full moon.

If anything, the night of the full moon itself is easier for the others. From what flashes Remus remembers, and from what James, Sirius, and Peter report, the wolf was mostly intent to attack itself, rather than them, and he certainly feels that in the morning. His torso is covered in so many cuts and bruises to such an extent that he can't even bear to pull his tee-shirt on.

"I didn't like it," James tells him as they make their way back to the cottage. "The wolf's always aggressive, but I don't remember the last time he was so intent to hurt himself when all of us were around."

Peter nods. "It was really scary, Moony. Why d'you reckon it happened?"

Remus has a theory, although he's unwilling to acknowledge it aloud to his friends. For years, his friends have spent each full moon normalizing his transformations, working very hard to convince him that the wolf is nothing to be ashamed of.

But in preparation for his journey, Dumbledore has provided him with assorted documents and information on the standard living conditions and behaviors of werewolves around Great Britain. All of his research has led him to a rather uncomfortable conclusion: he's got a lifestyle of transience and near-poverty to look forward to for the foreseeable future, and perhaps forever.

The general wizarding community's opinion of werewolves has been ringing through him with a startling persistence—perhaps he deserves that life. Perhaps his daydreams of a future with a steady job, his friends and Hermione by his side… perhaps that's been nothing but a distraction from the inevitable.

To put it lightly, Remus has been hating the werewolf side of himself as of late, and he's not particularly surprised that it showed. Annoyed, yes, but not surprised.

So instead of offering an explanation, Remus shrugs. "I'm not sure. Some months are just worse than others."

"I guess so," Sirius mutters, but the three friends continue to cast furtive glances at Remus over the course of their walk home.

Upon reaching the cottage, it takes all of Remus's energy to eat some food before rushing upstairs to sleep. He's tempted to bail on breakfast, but James sees the longing gaze that Remus casts toward the stairs when they walk in. "Get some food in you, mate. Remember the full moon in fourth year when you slept all day and terrified the house elves when you showed up to the kitchens, desperate for food at 10 o'clock? None of us want to deal with that."

Remus squints at James. "I'll interpret that as thoughtful."

Despite his fatigue, he takes James's words to heart and sits down to eat with everyone else. It's for the best, he knows that, but being surrounded by his friends as they laugh and smile together… it brings with it another sort of exhaustion. Too tired to engage with them, he instead feels as though he's already left them. It makes his heart ache.

Hermione rises from the table only moments after Remus does—if he could, he would be irritated about it. Instead, her gentle presence and tender behavior in the wake of the full moon serves as a great comfort to him. As great as James, Sirius, and Peter have always been _during_ full moons, their instinct in the days following has generally been to throw a ton of chocolate his way and let him recover as he will.

Meanwhile, Hermione's presence is enough to calm him, a comfort that he didn't know he was missing until she arrived, and she seems to know that.

"Do you mind if I—" she starts as she follows him out of the kitchen.

And it's such a relief that she asks. Gods, he loves that she asks. "Please sit with me," he says, requesting it before she can even finish her offer.

He falls asleep with his head in Hermione's lap. Occasionally, he'll come to just enough to be aware that she's still there, sturdy and warm, before drifting off again. She always seems to notice, even though he doesn't think he really stirs, because each time, he feels her fingers stroke through his hair and hears her hum lightly.

It's twilight when Remus finally wakes. He's not resting on Hermione anymore, but has instead moved over so that his head is at a rather uncomfortable angle jutting up against her hip. He groans as he processes the unpleasant crink in his neck that's resulted from what was no doubt an extended amount of time in this position.

"Good morning," Hermione teases as Remus arches his back and stretches against her.

But he's still sleepy and he's hungry again, so he doesn't feel particularly inclined to laugh. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he buries his face in her stomach as he asks, "What time is it?"

"Everyone finished dinner about half an hour ago. Euphemia came up and told me that she had some leftovers waiting for us."

This prompts Remus to sit up abruptly, frowning at Hermione. "You didn't eat?"

"No, I thought I'd wait for you. I didn't want you to have to eat all alone."

For a brief moment, Remus feels like he's about to cry; as his emotions nearly overflow, he's not even sure whether it's because he's happy or sad. Probably some more nuanced combination that he has no interest in sorting through right now. Or ever.

Remus doesn't cry. He says, "Thanks," gives her a timid smile, and that's the best he can do.

They bring their dinner outside and find that Sirius is also out there, napping beneath the table in his Animagus form. He perks up when he hears the door close behind Hermione, his tail wagging when he looks up at them.

"What are you doing, Padfoot?" Remus asks with a laugh.

"He's pouting," Hermione says. When Remus looks between her and Padfoot curiously, she elaborates: "Apparently James asked him again why he doesn't consider becoming a dog full-time, so Lily said he's trying to prove that he would be more boring this way."

Remus looks the dog up and down, then mumbles, "Who's going to tell him that we all love him more this way?"

Padfoot had been quite eagerly accepting gentle scratches behind the ears from Remus, but at this, he sniffs loudly and moves away from Remus and Hermione, lying down out of their reach.

"Oi, I'm only teasing!"

But Sirius refuses to look at him.

Hermione pats Remus's arm reassuringly. "He'll get over it. But tell me how you're feeling, are you alright? You said it was a rather rough night."

"I'm… I'm fine," he mumbles, but he doesn't need Hermione's raised eyebrows to prompt him to change his tune. "I mean, I'm not fine, but I'm… alright. As good as I could be. I slept better than I usually do right after the moon. That was nice."

She smiles and nods. "I noticed. You didn't toss and turn as much."

"And I'll have a bit more chocolate before bed."

"I like the sound of that too."

As though of one mind, Hermione and Remus look over at the dog still pouting in the corner. Because of Sirius's presence, they're not quite sure what to talk about. They can hardly engage him in conversation while he's in his Animagus form, but they feel strange talking as though he's not there. Suddenly, Remus's mind goes blank of any subjects unrelated to Hermione's time travel.

Luckily, Hermione is not so stuck. "Do you think you'll feel up to going to Hogsmeade the day after tomorrow? I'd hate for you to Apparate while you're still so worn out."

"Of course I'll feel up to it," Remus chuckles. "I need to pick out a birthday present for you, don't I?"

"You certainly do not!"

From his corner, Sirius lets out a bark that closely resembles his normal laugh. Remus scoffs. "No need for your help, Padfoot." He reaches across the table and settles his hand on her arm, lowering his voice. "Just a little something for you to remember me by until I'm able to see you again."

"Any idea when that will be?"

Remus hesitates. "Not sure. Have you got any idea?"

She swallows a mouthful of food that she was chewing, looking at him carefully and trying to gauge his expression. "Before we know it, I'm sure."

There's a stretch of silence that must be rather peculiar to an onlooker such as Sirius. "But you'll have something to hold onto in the meantime."

"Well, perhaps a new book…" she says carefully.

"Don't be ridiculous." Sirius's voice comes from his corner, and Hermione and Remus spin around to look at him. He's still sitting on the ground, blinking up at them in exasperation. "Let your boyfriend pick you out something nice, blimey."

Hermione furrows her brow. "Have you given up on pouting, then?"

"No, I just thought this argument was a bit pointless and thought I should step in. I'd appreciate it if you not tell Prongs that I changed back to myself. Trying to make a point, you know."

"You got it, mate," Remus assures him.

Sirius nods firmly and smiles, after which he becomes a dog once more.

Remus finishes his dinner rather quickly after Sirius's interruption. This is a relief—they find that Sirius's nonchalant words have left them quiet. In the past two months, Remus and Hermione have never referred to their relationship aloud in explicit terms.

"Let's go clear our plates," he suggests, coughing uncomfortably.

They retreat from Padfoot's surprisingly judgmental gaze. Hermione nearly leaves the door open for him to sneak back inside if he feels so compelled, but Remus points out that, "If he wants to come inside, he can turn back into himself. He's got hands, hasn't he?"

It's all so daft.

As she rinses off her plate, Hermione glances at Remus, her gaze slightly shrouded by the hair sweeping around her face. "So I'm your girlfriend?"

"Wouldn't you say I'm your boyfriend?"

Even though he's trying to avoid going out on a limb, she can't really blame him; he allows Hermione to pull him into a free fall often enough as it is. So she smiles. "Of course I would."

"Then yes, you're my girlfriend," Remus agrees. "Have been for a while."

"A long while."

He chuckles and kisses her lightly on the cheek before stepping past her to clear his own plate.

With Hermione's urging, Remus eats another chocolate bar while they linger in the kitchen. He leans against the sink, making idle chit chat about the quality of the chocolate from the Muggle village compared with the stuff that he gets in Hogsmeade. He'll interrupt the conversation to take a bite of his chocolate bar or to tug Hermione into a quick kiss, each of which sparks a patient flutter in her stomach.

"I should really get a new winter cloak and perhaps some warmer robes, but aside from that, perhaps I'll just stock up on chocolate for my journey," Remus muses as he finishes off his last bite.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "I won't even humor that suggestion by chiding you. Let's go upstairs, c'mon. Do you want to shower before bed?"

"What, with you?"

She smirks, but shakes her head. "Alone, Remus. You need to get back to sleep, you don't need me distracting you."

He pouts as he follows her toward the stairs. "I like when you distract me."

"Go shower."

"Yes, love."

There is no doubt in Hermione's mind that she made the right call when Remus makes it upstairs after his shower. He changes into his pajama pants – he's foregone a shirt entirely for the past few weeks – and kisses her goodnight, only managing to chat for a few minutes before he begins to nod off.

As she crawls under the blankets, Hermione gives Remus a once-over and privately laments the fact that the moon takes so much out of him. They've only got a few more days together before he leaves; even with that recovery time, the Remus that she has to say goodbye to will be only a shadow of _her_ Remus.

Perhaps that just means that she'll have to stay in the past so that they have a guarantee, at least, of reuniting in better circumstances. Right now, she'll provide herself with any excuse.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to remind you that I've set up a new twitter for myself, specifically intended to chronicle the ups and downs of writing _Ancient Fading Lines_. If you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over at twitter, too. :)**


	16. A Gift Exchange

During sixth and seventh years, Hermione had been stunned by the dark, anxious energy that permeated Hogsmeade, but that is nothing compared with the village when she visits it with Remus and the others. It's one of the most beautiful days they've had all month, yet there is almost no one else walking along the main street.

Remus and the others seem unfazed by the near-deserted village, which makes Hermione wonder how long it's been like this, and whether the village might rely on the students to keep businesses afloat in such unpleasant times.

"What will we say, meet at the Three Broomsticks at about 3 o'clock?" James suggests once everyone has Apparated.

"Sounds like a plan," Sirius agrees. "Nobody wander off too far, stick with a friend, etcetera etcetera…" His words fade as he and follows Peter toward Dominic Maestro's. Even though his tone is patronizing, mimicking the Ministry warnings about Voldemort, none of them can find it in them to spare even a chuckle—it hardly seems amusing when a place that should be cheery and packed with people is absolutely… not.

Hermione and Remus make a brief stop at the Three Broomsticks prior to going into the shops. Since the new term will begin the next day, it seemed silly that she should go back to the Potters' summer home only to return to Hogwarts so soon.

Instead, she drops her things off in the room that she's booked for the night.

"You know, I heard Fleamont mention that he's planning a special dinner for tonight," Remus remarks as he stands in the doorway, watching her get settled. "It would be a shame for you to miss it."

"We talked about this." She smirks at him. "I'm going to stay here, but you could always stay with me."

Remus shrugs, noncommittal. "Maybe."

Hermione considers the weather for a few moments and decides that the chances of rain before they come back are slim enough that she'll leave her umbrella in her trunk. "Fine, then I want you to stay with me," she amends.

"Maybe," Remus says again, although Hermione notices that he's cracked a smile, which grows when Hermione rises onto her tiptoes and kisses him.

"Let's go." When he pulls back, she tries to prolong the kiss, making him grin wider. "C'mon, love. I want to look in on Gladrags to get that traveling cloak I was talking about."

She allows him to step back, aware, but not self-conscious of the blush that spreads across her face when Remus closes the distance between them again by threading their fingers together.

There's only one attendant in Gladrags Wizardwear when Hermione and Remus enter the shop, and he's already fitting an elderly witch with a set of dress robes, so Hermione follows Remus around as he looks over the racks and displays. More than once, he looks curiously at the price tag of a set of robes, only for his expression to go blank at the sight of it.

Hermione clears her throat loudly the third time this happens. "Have I ever told you about the first time I met you?"

Remus nearly stumbles into a mannequin. "You mean your first time?"

"Yes," she says, giving him an amused smile.

"I don't believe you have." He's trying to sound casual, but as his eagerness peeks out, Hermione is in no way surprised—although she believes his assertion that her past is not on the forefront of his mind these days, she has long assumed that his curiosity has not dissipated entirely.

"You were asleep. I didn't think about it much at the time, but after I found out that you were a werewolf, I went back through the calendar and saw that it was full moon. I can't imagine how exhausted you must have been."

He looks at her blankly, not sure how to react. "Yeah?"

She nods. With her free hand, she reaches up and grazes her fingers over the smooth contours of his face, thinking of the scars that will appear there sometime between now and when he comes to teach at Hogwarts during her third year. "It's strange, thinking of how… How differently I remember that day now. I wish I had spent more time looking you over, processing—"

"What, I wasn't the most memorable thing you encountered that day?"

"You were… part of it," Hermione allows, thinking of the thrill that she got when the older Remus conjured his patronus; even though it wasn't corporeal, it was one of the most brilliant pieces of magic she had seen in her life. "But before you take offense, let me say that you'll understand why when it… when you come to it."

Remus hesitates. "Did you think something was off? When you met me, did I give any indication that I knew who you were?"

Hermione has played through her memories of their first few interactions together several times, trying to sort through that precise possibility. But she shakes her head. "I don't think so. You seemed to recognize Harry, but that made sense, of course, because he was—"

"James and Lily's." Remus finishes the sentence for Hermione, much to her relief—before he interrupted, she'd been about to allude to the wizarding world's perception of Harry as "the boy who lived."

"Yes. Exactly."

A shuffling of feet behind them cues them in to the fact that the shop attendant has finally become free. The young wizard looks between them kindly, asking, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, I'd like to get fitted for a set of robes and a traveling cloak," Remus says. "I'd like a new cloak, but used robes should be fine, I think…"

While the attendant brings Remus toward the fitting area, Hermione continues to wander around the shop. She finds herself admiring a deep purple traveling cloak, and despite the fact that she has no expectation of traveling _anywhere_ in the near future, she considers coming in the next day to inquire after it.

She shifts her attention to the jewelry at the back of the shop once she's exhausted her interest in all of the clothes. Perched on the head of one of the mannequins, she finds a hat that would suit Ginny incredibly well. It's the first time in weeks that Ron's younger sister has come to mind, and the sadness that she feels at the thought of her is muddled by a sense of shame at having forgotten her for so long.

One of Hermione's closest friends, and she hasn't thought of her in nearly a month.

Hermione is looking over the jewelry when Remus comes to find her; she's examining one of the ring cases so intently that his arm wrapping around her waist is a surprise. "What are you looking at, love?"

"Oh, it's… it's nothing. I was just admiring some of these rings."

Remus hums. "They are beautiful," he agrees, peering into the case as well. He points to a simple silver band with a small sapphire affixed to it. "Looks just like my mum's engagement ring."

"Does it really?" Hermione smiles softly. "My mum's always hated silver, so my dad got her a gold ring. My grandparents were a bit affronted, but I thought it was sweet. If she's the one who'll be wearing it…"

"Yeah, of course." But Remus doesn't seem to have heard her, not really. Instead, his eyes are glued to the display. Hermione is on the verge of asking him what he's thinking about, but he seems aware that he's piqued her curiosity because as he stares at the case intently, he points toward a group of gold and silver rings in one corner of the display. "Do you know about Claddagh rings?"

She considers the rings that he's drawn her attention to. Each one is only a band of metal—instead of stones, each shows a pair of hands holding a heart, and on the top of each heart is perched a crown. "I've seen them before. Is there something special about the symbol?"

His eyes widen slightly. "Have I stumbled upon something that I know, but Hermione Granger doesn't?"

"Quiet," Hermione mutters, glancing up at him and allowing herself to grin when she sees that he's smirking.

"It's an Irish tradition. I first heard about it from a Ravenclaw girl who dated Sirius, actually, after she saw me looking at the one she had." He taps the glass again. "The hands represent for friendship, the heart symbolizes love, and the crown represents loyalty."

Hermione feels her breath catch in her throat. "I love that."

"Oh, it gets better," Remus tells her eagerly. "Because they've worked out different meanings for the ring depending on how you wear it. If you put it on your right hand, pointing outward, you're single, but point it inward, and you're in a relationship."

"What about on the left hand?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," he chuckles. "Point it outward on your left hand if you're engaged, inward if you're married."

She notes that although Remus is still looking down at the display case, his gaze has become totally unfocused. "That's lovely," she tells him.

"Mhm." He looks up at her at last and bites his lip, raises his eyebrows. "So would you like one?"

Hermione's jaw drops just slightly. As soon as Remus asks, she feels daft for not expecting the offer from the moment he brought the ring to her attention. Daft, but remarkably touched. "Yeah, alright. I suppose you did promise to pick me out something nice."

"I believe those were Padfoot's words, but yes, that was the general idea."

* * *

Upon meeting back at the Three Broomsticks, it takes nearly two and a half hours for James to clap his hands together and say, "Mates, you ready to go home?"

Hermione only has to glance at Remus before he gently assures her, "Don't worry, I'll stay."

Remus plans to return to the Potters' cottage the next morning , and James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter will still see Hermione at Order meetings during the school year, so when they part, it is with promises that they will see each other rather soon. Even so, they don't leave until fifteen minutes after James suggests it. As soon as they're left alone, Remus and Hermione order some more butterbeer and some dinner.

"Blimey, I miss coming in here with them. They could be such twats, but our Hogsmeade visits were always some of our best times together." Remus's voice gets gentler as he turns more thoughtful. "Sirius used to make such a fool of himself flirting with Rosmerta, and Peter used to use James's cloak around the Shrieking Shack to further solidify the ghost rumors…"

"Sounds like them," Hermione agrees. She can't help but remember the occasion during her third year when she, Harry, and Ron overheard several Hogwarts teachers reminiscing with Madam Rosmerta about Remus and his three closest friends.

"It won't ever be like that again," he mumbles.

Chances are, Remus wouldn't even be able to imagine how true that is. Hermione feels an ache in her gut as she thinks of the chaos ahead for Remus's dearest friends, an ache which intensifies when she combines it with her own memories of Hogsmeade visits with Harry and Ron.

They make quite the pair.

He settles his hands on the table between them. Hermione catches the way he's twisting and curling his fingers together anxiously, and she immediately reaches out to him. "You'll be okay, Remus."

A smile peeks through Remus's grimace. "I know. It's not me that I'm worried about, I'm past that. I just…" He clears his throat. "I'm worried about my mates. I'm worried that you won't be here when I get back."

"I will be," Hermione whispers. When Remus doesn't answer, she grips his hands tighter and repeats, more forcefully, " _I will be_."

Looking into his eyes, Hermione knows that he wants to believe her. But Remus is biting his lip, uncertain when he nods.

Hermione examines him for a brief moment, then she reaches into her shirt and pulls out her broken time turner. When packing her things the night before, she had nearly tucked away into the corner of her trunk, but something had compelled her to return it to its place around her neck. Now, she removes it, looking Remus up and down carefully as she places it on the table. "I haven't got any symbolic traditions to cite, nothing about friendship and love and loyalty, but I… I want you to believe me. I understand why you don't, but I'd do anything to make sure that you did. So…"

As she slides the time turner closer, his eyes widen. "What?"

"I'd like you to hold onto that for me since I won't be using it."

Remus unclasps his hands so that he can pick up the time turner. He looks it over intently, never having had an opportunity to examine it so in-depth.

"You're mad," he informs her at last. "This is… I can't keep this."

"I wouldn't trust anyone else with it."

He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

"Just put it on, Remus, go on." She feels a nearly overwhelming surge of love and affection when he finally pulls the chain over his head and tucks the time turner under his shirt.

Madam Rosmerta brings their food to their table not long after. Business in the pub is slow, so the cheerful owner sits with them for a while, chatting eagerly. Upon finding out that Hermione works up at Hogwarts, Rosmerta declares that she should always feel free to come down to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, half-price, because, "Any friend of Mr. Lupin and his mates is guaranteed special treatment."

"No, that's not necessary," Hermione rushes to reassure her, making Remus chuckle.

"You're allowed to say yes when people offer you nice things, love," he tells her, but he gives her a fond smile.

They head upstairs for an early evening. With Hermione's time turner around his neck, Remus is possibly more at ease than she's ever seen him. He keeps looking Hermione's way with soft eyes and an easy smile. It's comforting to see him so genuinely calm after weeks of trying to conceal his anxiety.

"Do you think if we don't go to sleep, tomorrow just won't come?" he asks at some point around one o'clock in the morning.

"If only." But another thought occurs and Hermione's stomach tightens. "When I first started using my time turner, I thought time was less intimidating. I thought I understood how it works. But now it scares me more. For all we know, maybe tomorrow won't come."

"But you… you do know," he breathes.

"I think I do, but maybe it's foolish to think that we know what's coming. Maybe more so because I've already seen it."

Remus waits for her to continue, but she doesn't, so he puts an arm over her shoulder and pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head. "I think acknowledging that proves you're not foolish at all."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to remind you that I've set up a new twitter for myself, specifically intended to chronicle the ups and downs of writing _Ancient Fading Lines_. If you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over at twitter, too. :)**

 **A/N2: I was initially going to keep quiet about this detail, but because I've already received a helpful review trying to shed light on the inaccuracy of the common perception of Claddagh rings** : **believe it or not, my portrayal was intentionally inaccurate. I researched the ring pretty thoroughly before deciding to put it in this fic, but for reasons that might be unclear right now, I wanted Remus to get it wrong.**


	17. Transition

Hermione and Remus don't wake up until late the next morning. Even after that, they laze about for some time before they work up the energy to roll out of bed. Hermione spots Remus from across the room, curling his fingers thoughtfully around the time turner as he holds his shirt slack in his other hand. As soon as she clears her throat, he releases his grip; the time turner falls against his chest and he looks up at her abruptly. "Yes?"

"You're cute when you're thinking."

Remus flushes pink from his cheeks all the way down to his collarbone. "What d'you mean by that?"

She giggles and disregards her own trunk in order to join him. "Exactly what I said." Reaching up and stroking a gentle hand through his hair, she murmurs, "You are incredibly handsome when you're lost in thought."

"Can I visit you at Hogwarts?" he asks the floor.

"What?"

"I don't know exactly what to expect, coming up, but if I have some time… a day or two between full moons, may I come and see you?"

Hermione's heart leaps at the thought. "Of course. I'd like that very much. But would you promise me something?"

Remus rushes to nod. "Anything."

"Please don't use me as an excuse to run away from this mission. You'll be making a difference if you gain the trust of even one werewolf, but it would look suspicious if you're disappearing all the time to see me—if you're disappearing even _occasionally_ to see me," she adds when Remus seems to be working his way up to arguing with her. "I'd love to see you, but not at the expense of everything that Dumbledore has you working toward, or you might as well not leave at all."

It takes him several seconds to answer. They're standing remarkably close and Hermione doesn't think she's imagining a hint of a pout on his lips before he says, "Alright."

"Then I'd love it."

Remus smooths his hand over her hip. "This is why you should never call yourself foolish—you keep me on the straight and narrow."

A flurry of love and affection builds in Hermione's gut, but it intermingles with more unpleasant emotions: guilt, and perhaps a little bit of fear. She longs to know if the thought has ever occurred to Remus that she spends so much time encouraging him to do what's right because her attraction to him is the cause of so much of her reckless behavior.

"I'm just trying to make sure you're alright so that I get to meet you in twenty years," she tells him, summoning a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, is it twenty years?" he asks eagerly.

Hermione rolls her eyes, turning away. She's just noticed that she'd pulled out a book to read the night before, and she sends it flying across the room into her open trunk. "I rounded by a few years. You know I'm never going to tell you when we meet."

"You could maybe tell me a secret for the road," Remus suggests.

She sits down on the bed in front of him. She's amused, she can't help it… but also particularly willing to oblige. It's something about the way he's got his hands stuffed in his pockets as he smiles. It reminds her of why she found him so comforting when she first came back in time. "Just one? One detail about the future?"

"Mhm."

Hermione considers him. "When I told you that I'd realized you're a werewolf, you called me the brightest witch of my age. I was livid at the time – don't be daft, Remus, of course I won't say why – but even so, I was… so happy."

"Aw, you cared about my opinion?" Remus asks, his smile widening. "Did you have a crush on me even though I was old and gray?"

"You were not gray…" Then, in response to his raised eyebrows, she adds, "And I didn't have a crush. I just respected your opinion. You didn't think I started confiding in you just because of your pretty face, did you?"

Remus shrugs. He steps into her space, holding out his hands to her and chuckling when she takes them. "When your best mates are two of the most handsome blokes in school, it's rather tempting to take a beautiful witch's interest at face-value."

"If it makes you feel any more objectified, I think I partially liked you for your pretty face. Even when we first met in the hospital wing."

"Now that's a relief," Remus agrees. After a moment's pause, he tilts his head to the side and says, "And you thought so because you fancy me in the future, right? At least a little bit."

She lets out an exasperated sigh. "How long have you been itching to ask me this?"

It doesn't even take a reply to provide context for Remus's amused, slightly smug expression. He pecks Hermione on the nose and she thinks, vaguely, that she's fallen in love with an absolute moron. One of the most brilliant wizards she's ever met, perhaps, but a moron all the same.

They join a slightly more sizable crowd downstairs for lunch, many of them Hogwarts staff and professors who must have arrived in Hogsmeade the previous evening as well. Remus and Hermione spot Rubeus Hagrid taking up a booth all by himself, and at Hermione's suggestion, they go over to join him. He greets them with great enthusiasm, quite successfully behaving as though he hasn't seen them at numerous Order meetings since the middle of July.

By chatting with Hagrid, they're temporarily able to keep their minds off of Remus's imminent departure, but after about 45 minutes, he grunts and says, "Well, I'd better get back up to the castle. Dumbledore wants me to feed the thestrals before we set them up with the carriages. Hermione, I'll see you this evening, and Remus…" Hagrid hesitates for a moment. "Safe travels, alright?"

Just like that, they plummet back down to earth.

Hermione is the one who finally says it. "You should probably go. They'll be wondering what's happened."

"I know."

Despite this acknowledgment, he makes no move to leave.

"We are going to see each other again," she tells him quietly.

Remus frowns. "I know that too. It's just…" He shrugs helplessly. "Since we met, I've never gone more than a day or two without seeing you. Once the holidays started, I did see you every day, even right before and after full moon. It's going to be hard."

"Yes, it is," Hermione agrees, and she doesn't want to get annoyed with him now, since she has no idea when she will next see him, but she can't help it. "You're my anchor to everything that I care about here, and I don't know how I'll be able to stand going about from day to day without that."

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, but no words come out for some time. Finally: "I didn't know I was that much of this world for you."

"No need to sound so guilty," Hermione mumbles. "I can be myself with you. And only with you. During every single conversation, I feel like I'm in on some joke – sometimes a very ironic, not-really-funny-at-all joke – that no one else is in on. But with you… even though you don't know the punchline, at least you know there's a joke in the first place. I don't want to lose that." After a brief pause, she adds, "And to make it even harder, I'm also in love with you."

There must be a million thoughts racing through Remus's mind. As it is, though, all he can summon the energy to say is, "I'm sorry."

She feels her face crumble. "You have nothing to apologize for, I've told you."

"But I do," he insists. "I'm sorry, alright?"

And Remus is looking at her so sadly that Hermione accepts his apology, despite the fact that she doesn't understand why he's apologizing. If either of them has any reason to be sorry, it's her.

From that point on, an unpleasant tension lingers between them. It's not a relief, per se, when Remus gets up to leave, but for once, Hermione knows it will be good to have some time away from him. She'll regret feeling that way after very little time has passed, she has no doubt, but for now…

They stand outside the Three Broomsticks, a ways away from the door. Remus draws closer to her, his head bent, and she shivers just slightly when he presses his forehead to hers. "I love you," he says.

"I love you," Hermione echoes. "And you deserve it, okay? I don't want you wallowing in self-pity while you're hanging out with your new werewolf friends."

He smiles just a bit. "Yes ma'am."

"Very good. Now kiss me goodbye."

Remus means to peck her on the lips – they'd snogged quite enough that morning and the night before, they don't need to make it even harder to part now – but one of them deepens the kiss and suddenly it's desperate, aggressive. They only pull apart at the sound of the door to the Three Broomsticks opening, at which point they rush to straighten themselves up. McGonagall and Flitwick come out, both glancing Hermione and Remus's way before pointedly entering into a conversation about how eager they are for the house elves' treacle tart.

"Sorry," they mumble at the same time, both unsure whether they're apologizing to one another or to the teachers. Some of the tension finally relieved, they both giggle.

"I'll see you, love," Remus tells her.

"Safe travels."

The moment he Disapparates, Hermione feels her breath catch in her throat. It takes everything in her not to cry.

* * *

It takes Hermione very little time to become situated in her room, at which point she's rather at a loss for what to do with herself. She had not expected to blurt out to Remus how much of a fixture he had become in her life—she hadn't even allowed herself to think about it in much depth before that. He already felt like such a permanent presence, even more so than Harry and Ron.

They'd grown too comfortable with one another; it's exactly the sort of problem she knew she'd encounter if she allowed herself to grow too close to anyone, and she _hasn't even returned to the future_. She keeps expecting to feel him reaching out to touch her elbow, her hip, the small of her back… anything to remind her that he's right there. Every time she remembers that he's gone, she nearly starts weeping.

"I'm not even supposed to be here," she tells the empty room. "I probably wouldn't be if I weren't so damn stubborn."

Unsurprisingly, the room doesn't answer. But only seconds later, there is a knock on her door.

When she first opens the door, she doesn't think anyone is there. It takes her a moment to look down and realize that a house elf is looking up at her curiously. "Hello Miss, the headmaster has asked me to fetch you and bring you to his office."

No wonder the elf looks so intrigued—Hermione can't imagine that it's very often the house elves are sent by Dumbledore to bring people back to his office.

She spends the walk to Dumbledore's office trying to make casual conversation with the house elf, but he's quite shy and only provides the minimal polite response to each question before going mute. As guilty as she feels about it, it's something of a relief when they arrive at the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and the house elf chirps, "Ice Mice!" With a quick bow to Hermione, the elf disappears, leaving her to ascend the stairs on her own.

If she had any theories for why Dumbledore might have summoned her, they all fade away when she reaches his office. The door leading in from the stairs is open, giving her a clear view of Dumbledore and several other professors: Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn, and Pomona Sprout all turn in unison to look at her.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Good, good," the headmaster says. "I hope your living quarters are to your liking?"

"Y-yes, sir," Hermione says, glancing between the heads of houses with great interest. That said, she directs her comment to Dumbledore specifically when she says, "I was surprised when the house elves directed me toward a different room. It's a fair deal larger than the one you put me up in last year."

"Indeed it is," Dumbledore agrees. "There's a reason for that, and I'm afraid it might have been a bit presumptuous of me to put you there right away… But you see, I've found myself in a rather difficult situation, and after conferring with the heads of house, it seems that this is the best course of action."

Hermione waits to see if he's going to continue, but he doesn't, so she asks, "Yes?"

"This morning, I found our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor attempting to break into this office while the headmaster was away at a meeting with the Minister," Professor McGonagall begins. Her tone is serious, formal, but Hermione doesn't miss the sadness in her eyes. "We do not yet know for sure, but the Healers at St. Mungo's believe that he was under the control of the Imperius Curse. However, the possibility remains that he was recruited to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

Dumbledore clears his throat. "Need I remind you, Minerva…"

Hermione knows very well that anyone else would receive a stern talking-to from McGonagall for speaking to her in such a tone, but as it is, her nostrils flare and she continues on, flinching just slightly as she corrects herself: "The possibility remains that he was recruited to Voldemort's side, which means that we now find ourselves without a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Again, silence falls. Each professor is looking at her expectantly, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore, who simply looks… curious. At least, she thinks that she detects curiosity.

"You… you want to hire me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she asks, not bothering to conceal her utter bewilderment.

"That is the general idea," McGonagall agrees. She's smiling just slightly—it makes Hermione miss the days when this woman was her own head of house.

"I'm afraid that in recent years, it's become rather difficult to find someone to fill the position. Given that I thought it more likely that I would find someone willing to take the position of librarian, I thought a slight bit of rearranging the staff roster was in order." Dumbledore lowers his head, peering over his glasses at her. "Was it right of me to believe that you would be willing to provide your assistance? I have the utmost confidence in your ability to teach my students."

For a split second, Hermione wonders if he knows everything, knows all that she's seen and been through. She can't imagine why else he would willingly hire someone so young, someone whose experience in the subject he and the other professors have never witnessed first-hand—at least not yet.

Then again, he's desperate, and she can understand why. Filling the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was always enough of a hassle when people simply believed that there was a curse on the job. Factor in everyone's terror of Voldemort, and it's a wonder he's managed to find anyone at all in recent years.

"Alright," she agrees. "I'll take the job."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to remind you that I've set up a new twitter for myself, specifically intended to chronicle the ups and downs of writing _Ancient Fading Lines_. If you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over at twitter, too. :)**

 **A/N2: I was initially going to keep quiet about this detail, but because I've already received a helpful review on Chapter 16 trying to shed light on the inaccuracy of the common perception of Claddagh rings: b** **elieve it or not, my portrayal was intentionally inaccurate. I researched the ring pretty thoroughly before deciding to put it in this fic, but for reasons that might be unclear right now, I wanted Remus to get it wrong.**


	18. Interlude

For a few weeks, Hermione expects to receive another summons from Dumbledore in order to rehash their plans for her return home. Her position as a teacher is temporary, but she is anticipating her replacement within days, weeks. She can't think of any other reason why he wouldn't have asked the house elves to put her in the room adjacent to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—if he weren't already looking for her replacement, why would he intentionally leave that room vacant?

But Dumbledore does not hire a replacement, nor does he approach Hermione to discuss her return to the future. He doesn't bring her any new research from the Department of Mysteries, either, and she has no idea whether it's because he has given up, or if perhaps they have simply found no valuable information on repairing cursed time turners.

Regardless of the reason, she begins to allow herself to settle into a comfortable pattern as a Hogwarts professor. She throws herself wholeheartedly into her classes, and she finds that on some weekdays, she's so exhausted by her classes and all of the assignments that she's marking that she manages to forget how lonely she is without Remus. At least for a few moments.

The Order continues to hold weekly meetings, but she doesn't attend them quite as regularly. Dumbledore is the only member of the Hogwarts staff who consistently attends. Meanwhile, Hermione attends one or two meetings a month. She and Minerva McGonagall make a habit of trekking from Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade together, from which point they're able to Apparate to the Order headquarters.

Hermione develops an even stronger sort of affection for the transfiguration professor as a result of these interactions. More than once, Remus and his friends come up in conversation – although McGonagall seems careful to skirt around the precise nature of Hermione and Remus's relationship – and it emphasizes how much McGonagall genuinely cares for her students.

"Of course Dumbledore has the utmost confidence in all of them," she says on one such occasion. "And I certainly won't attempt to claim that they haven't proved themselves to be competent, particularly James and Lily…" At the thought of the young Potters' brush with Voldemort, she shudders slightly. "But they shouldn't be in this position. They're too young.

"As I feel you are, Miss Granger," she adds, glancing toward Hermione with a wry smile. "Although I must say that you have also exceeded my expectations. It's a shame you didn't come to Hogwarts; I believe you would have been a wonderful addition to Gryffindor."

Hermione blushes deeply and murmurs a 'thank you.' As a student at Hogwarts, she had always been thrilled to receive encouragement from Professor McGonagall, but now, it feels thoroughly undeserved. Since September 1st, she's gone back to feeling like a rather miserable Gryffindor, having mostly used her new position as an excuse to keep herself busy without thinking about Remus, about fighting Voldemort, about returning to the future.

Furthermore, even as a teacher, she's been feeling rather inept. Over the past few weeks, she's spent a lot of time playing over a conversation with Harry from their seventh year, when he'd confided in her and Ron that Voldemort had attempted to take a job at Hogwarts when he was directly out of school, but the headmaster had refused his request due to his age. At the time, Hermione had thought this excuse absurd, but now…

It's not that the students don't respect her, exactly. Indeed, her mysterious reputation immediately secured all but the most problematic students' respect, and within a week, her knowledge of the Dark Arts had drawn in everyone else. If anything, she believes it has amplified her mystique amongst the students—how could someone so young be so well-versed in such an intimidating subject?

But she's out of her depth, and she knows it.

They're two of the last ones to arrive at Order headquarters. Lily and James spot Hermione the moment she strolls into the room, and Lily beckons her over immediately. Hermione smiles at McGonagall before rushing to join the Potters toward the far end of the table. For the meetings at which Hermione has been present, Lily and James have been away on missions, so it's with great eagerness that Lily asks, "How are you, Jean?"

"I'm alright," Hermione says. "How have you two been? I don't think I've seen you since term started."

"I think you might be right," James says slowly. "Well, needless to say we've been enjoying marital bliss. In between spats with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course," he adds, taking on a very self-important tone.

Lily rolls her eyes, but Hermione giggles. "Sounds about right."

Hermione doesn't miss the way that Lily and James suddenly glance between each other, over to her, and back at each other. She's temporarily concerned that they're going to keep their thoughts to herself, but then Lily tentatively asks, "Is there any chance you've heard from Remus yet?"

"From Remus?" Her heart sinks immediately. Just because she told him not to go out of his way to contact her, it doesn't mean she isn't disappointed each night that she falls asleep, not having received an owl during that day to reassure her that Remus is fine. "No, I haven't."

"Oh." James's face falls. "We were hoping that maybe he'd at least… try to keep you in the loop."

She doesn't tell them that she made him specifically promise not to. "Afraid not. But if I do hear from him, I'll… I'll make sure you know."

Hermione looks down at her lap, sniffing just slightly as she knots her fingers together. She's taken slightly aback when she feels Lily's hand on her arm. "I'm sure he misses you, Jean. He always used to throw out these peculiar hypotheticals, talking about how he might not see you again for years and years… It drove him mad, the thought of not seeing you. It was mildly endearing, so long as I wasn't also cross with him."

"I wish he didn't miss me," Hermione mumbles, surprising herself.

Lily doesn't seem surprised, though, she just frowns sadly and shakes her head. "I know you don't mean that."

No, Hermione doesn't mean that. Lily's quite right. But perhaps if Hermione hadn't fallen in love, she would be willing to wish that Remus didn't care. Because if he didn't care... she wouldn't have a reason to stay. But of course, it's because she's made such an impact in the past that she's scared of her future. So perhaps she wouldn't have won no matter what she did.

Over the course of the meeting, she finds herself repeatedly distracted by Peter Pettigrew, who is sitting across from her. Apparently, he has been entirely absent from the Order meetings between the start of term and now, and as various Order members deliver their reports on Voldemort's activities, he can't seem to stop squirming.

Admittedly, Peter's behavior ever since they met has been so peculiar that his fidgeting tonight is no indication that the man has now betrayed his friends, but she finds that she can't help wondering…

It seems that Sirius notices Hermione's curiosity, because during a lull in the meeting, he leans over and speaks quietly in her ear.

"Wormtail looks rough, doesn't he?"

She hesitates before nodding. "He seems rather worn out. What has he been up to?"

"New job at the Ministry. All very hush-hush, apparently, he won't tell us a thing about his position. All we know is that he's working awful hours. Euphemia reckons he's just trying to make some entry-level position sound more glamorous, but James and I aren't so sure…" Sirius's mouth forms a hard line as he glances toward his friend. "In the past year or so, he's not been so intent to impress us. It's been nice, honestly. But we just wonder…"

"Why he would be so secretive," Hermione mumbles.

"Exactly."

Peter glances toward Hermione and Sirius, and when he sees that they're looking at him, he gives them a tentative smile. Sirius smiles back, and Hermione tries, but her mouth quivers as she suddenly finds herself on the verge of tears. She stares hard at the table until she feels that it's safe enough to look anyone in the eye.

Hermione rises to her feet at the end of the meeting, already determined to catch McGonagall's eye and let her know that she plans to head back to Hogwarts on her own. Everyone always tends to loiter, as it's a rare opportunity to interact away from the scrutiny of any suspicious, and potentially malicious, onlookers.

But then Lily settles her hand on Hermione's arm. "You're not leaving already." It's more of an instruction than a question.

"I really should," Hermione answers weakly. "I've got to finish marking quite a few essays before Monday…"

"Oh, but that's a rubbish reason," James exclaims. He leans a bit closer. "Lily and I are off on another mission tomorrow, who knows when we'll be back. So you should have no valid excuse for why you can't come along with us for a drink. Hell," he adds, pulling Lily closer and gesturing toward Sirius. "What if we went to the Three Broomsticks? We'd even be in your neck of the woods."

Hermione is on the verge of refusing. Since the start of term, she hasn't felt like the best of company.

"Please?" Sirius chips in. "Drinks are on me."

She smiles just slightly, and although she remains conflicted, she nods.

James asks Peter to tag along, but he stammers through an apology and says that he's been assigned the graveyard shift at work. They invite a few other Order members who do take them up on the offer—the Longbottoms and Hagrid and Ted Tonks. Rosmerta is stunned to see them all as they stroll in; these days, such a large group during the rush is cause for celebration, and as it is there's only an hour or so before the bar closes.

Hermione finds herself crammed into a seat between Alice Longbottom and Ted, both of whom engage her in cheerful conversation. She finds that of all of the original Order members, she's come to like Neville's mother the most. Alice is all easy smiles and subtle humor, and so very clever. They chat about Muggle music, which Alice has recently grown curious about, and when Alice gushes over her favorite David Bowie album, Hermione feels a tug of immense sadness in her gut, remembering a disagreement with Remus about the merits of the musician.

Remus's unnecessarily lukewarm feelings toward David Bowie were hardly a strong connection to him, but something about the moment makes her miss him anyway, painfully so.

Alice notices Hermione's change in demeanor immediately and asks, "Did I say something wrong?"

And because she finds that she's not interested in lying, Hermione shrugs and mumbles, "I just miss Remus."

"Oh." Alice's face falls. She reaches across the table and for a moment, she hovers her hand over Hermione's before giving it a few reassuring pats, and Hermione smiles slightly at the gesture. After a moment, Alice says, "It might seem painful right now, but I think that what you're doing should help you until he gets back."

Hermione furrows her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Going out with his other mates. If anyone misses him as much as you do, it would be all of them, right?"

They both glance at the others sitting around the table, Hermione's gaze lingering on James, who's laughing eagerly at a story that Hagrid's telling him, and Lily and Sirius, who are speaking in more subdued tones.

"You're right," she whispers. She thinks of Lily and James's words earlier in the evening, of their concern for their friend.

"Of course I am. And besides," Alice adds. "They're your friends too, aren't they? From someone with an outside view, I can tell you that they've all come to love you very much, even though you do still seem to be on your guard about something."

Hermione shifts her body to look more fully at Alice, blinking at her in surprise. "On my guard?"

"Very much so," Alice agrees, but her tone is gentle, not accusatory. "Maybe you've got the right idea, though, in times like these. Perhaps we should all be a bit more guarded."

* * *

 **A/N: This is the first of what will most likely be slower updates. I'm entering my senior year of college, so I'm anticipating quite a lot of work, which means I can't devote full days to this fic anymore. That said, I still hope to post an update every few weeks, and there are some chapters coming up that I'm quite excited for, so they might come sooner.**

 **And of course, thank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to remind you that I've got a twitter on which I'm specifically chronicling the ups and downs of writing _Ancient Fading Lines_ , and also probably hinting at some little tidbits in the next few weeks because I'm too excited to keep my mouth shut. So if you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over there too. :)**


	19. Visitation

Toward the end of November, Hermione is in the middle of a conversation with McGonagall at breakfast when an owl settles onto the table in front of her. She's certain at first that it must be a mistake, but as she gingerly reaches for the envelope, she sees that her name has been written quite neatly across the front.

She looks up to McGonagall, ready to apologize, but the elder witch simply gives her a slight smile and nods before turning to speak to Flitwick, who's on her other side.

"Can I take you somewhere more private?" she asks the owl quietly. When he lets out a soft hoot, she takes this as confirmation and holds out her arm so that he can climb onto it. Feeling quite certain that she will not make it back to the Great Hall in time to finish her breakfast, she grabs two extra slices of toast and brings them with her as she races through the entrance hall, up toward her room.

The owl settles on top of one of Hermione's bookshelves as soon as they arrive. Meanwhile, she sits down on the sofa. For more than a minute, she stares at the envelope in her hand. She tries to decide whether she even wants the letter to be from Remus, whether she wants him to be risking detection to write good news or bad…

She can't come to a conclusion one way or the other, so she opens the letter feeling entirely ambivalent.

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm in Hogsmeade. May I come to see you tonight? If yes, I'll meet you at the passage from Honeydukes at 10 o'clock._

He didn't bother to sign it, but of course Hermione has no question in her mind that it's from Remus. She reads through the three sentences several times, trying to ascertain his reasons for wanting to visit, but he was too concise and vague to give anything away.

For a moment, Hermione considers refusing. But she's been aching to see him and he's so very close…

She rushes to her desk and scrawls only one word onto a spare bit of parchment: _Yes_.

"C'mere, love," she says gently to the owl, and he coasts through the air, landing on the desk before her. As she folds the note and ties it carefully to his leg, Hermione says, "This is going back to Remus Lupin, alright? The bloke who sent you to me."

When she opens her window, the owl fluffs himself up importantly before soaring out into the crisp winter air.

Hermione finds it understandably difficult to focus during classes that day. On the one hand, she's concerned that Remus is in some sort of danger and had to flee, but she also can't ignore the possibility that he was not in danger, and simply left the company of the werewolves, in which case he could be putting himself in unnecessary danger by being so close to Dumbledore. Add to that the fact that it's only a few days after the full moon, so he must be immensely worn out from traveling…

She's fretting over him in a way that she hasn't allowed herself to for the months that he's been away.

By the time she reaches her last class of the day – her seventh-year NEWT students, why's it got to be her seventh years – she's barely able to focus as she gives them feedback on their most recent homework, and she ultimately makes the frustrating decision to let them go early. Forcing them to stick around is a waste of her time and theirs.

As she walks to dinner that evening, she finds herself taking a rather round-about path through the castle. She's not looking forward to sitting in the Great Hall with the staff and students, trying to behave as though eating is not simply something that she's doing to waste some time until Remus comes. Her desire to eat with everyone else is so low that she's actually considering going to the kitchens and asking the house elves if she could simply take some food and bring it up to her room.

Then she turns a corner and nearly bumps into Professor Dumbledore, who is gazing wistfully out the window as flecks of snow float past.

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry, sir," she says, leaping back.

"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger," he replies. He doesn't look away from the window as he speaks. "I've had little opportunity to ask: how are you finding your new position?"

Hermione hesitates. "It was never my preferred subject in school, but I'm enjoying it, and I'm happy to fill in."

"Minerva tells me that the students enjoy your lessons, so I imagine you had an adept teacher."

Images of each of her Defense Against the Dark Arts professors flash through her mind, and she thinks of how few of them were genuinely competent. That said, the things that she learned from Remus in her third year, and Harry in the DA, have been remarkably helpful as she frames her own lessons. "I suppose you'll see that for yourself," she offers, and Dumbledore chuckles good-naturedly.

She's about to bid him farewell, but her thoughts shift to Remus, and his plan to come to see her, and she decides to say, "Professor, perhaps I should tell you… Remus is in Hogsmeade. He's coming to see me this evening."

Dumbledore finally turns to look at her, but his expression is unreadable as he nods slightly and says, "I see. Might I ask you to convey a message to him?"

"Yes, of course." She doesn't bother to conceal her surprise at the request. Of course Remus has had to maintain a low profile, but she would have thought that Dumbledore, at least, would be in communication with him somehow.

"Please tell him that my suggestion stands."

Hermione frowns just slightly. "Your… suggestion, Professor?"

But even as she asks, she can tell that Dumbledore has no intention of elaborating. He waves a dismissive hand through the air. "I assure you that he will understand. Thank you, Miss Granger."

She knows a dismissal when she hears one, and since she has no desire of prolonging the conversation herself, she smiles graciously and says, "Have a good evening, sir."

As she wanders away, Hermione finds herself with yet another concern swirling around in her mind: what on earth is this 'suggestion' that Dumbledore was talking about?

* * *

Since her classroom is so close to the one-eyed witch passage, Hermione returns there to wait for Remus that evening, figuring that she can try to work on her lesson plans for the following week's classes. Unsurprisingly, she makes very little progress—she keeps realizing that she's been staring blankly at her parchment for ten minutes at a time, and more than once she has to magic away splotches of ink from her parchment or desk that accumulate by dripping from her quill.

Eventually, she resigns herself to the fact that she will not be getting anything else done. Glancing at the clock, she sees that it's only just 9:30 and drops her head onto her desk, exasperated. She nearly wishes that Remus had given her no warning before showing up to see her; at least then, she wouldn't have spent the whole day wondering how she would feel when she saw him, at least she wouldn't have spent the whole day worrying about him…

At least she wouldn't have been able to tell Dumbledore about him coming, because though she feels badly about it, she's already anticipating that Remus will not want to acknowledge whatever Dumbledore was alluding to in his message. But because he made the request, she would feel badly if she kept it to herself.

Her office suddenly feels far too cramped, and Hermione makes the abrupt decision to go and wait for him at the bottom of the one-eyed witch passage. She only ever used it once during her own time at Hogwarts, back when she had to retrieve Harry's invisibility cloak during their third year, but she's thankfully able to bring the password to mind: " _Dissendium_ ," she whispers, tapping the statue with her wand.

Pulling herself up through the opening, she only just remembers to brace herself for the slide at the entrance, but she is not prepared to tumble into another person who is sitting down at the bottom. They fall into a heap together, both grunting and groaning as various limbs hit the hard ground too sharply.

"Hermione?"

Even muffled by Hermione's shoulder, she knows Remus's voice when she hears it, and her heart leaps as she scrambles away from him. "Remus! How long have you been down here?"

The grin on his face immediately turns bashful as he meets her eye. "I think about an hour."

"You're joking," she giggles. "I've been wasting time in my classroom for an hour when I could have been with you?"

Remus's eyes widen. "Your classroom? Blimey, I've missed more than I was imagining. I hope you plan to explain it all."

"Of course I will, but we'll go back to my room first, c'mon."

She grabs for his hand so that they can stand up together, but he tugs her back to the ground. "Hang on, I haven't had a chance to kiss you yet."

And despite the fact that the floor is cold beneath them and the passage is damp and dreary, Hermione grins against Remus's lips when he pulls her into a kiss. He smells different than she's used to – she thinks it's the smell of campfire clinging to his robes – but he tastes just like she remembered, and for a few moments, all of her anxieties about his situation dissipate because at least they have this. At least this is familiar and warm and good.

But it's difficult to ignore that the passageway is chilly and unpleasant, particularly when she has a warm room waiting just a few minutes' walk away, so they pull apart rather quickly. Remus does allow Hermione to tug him to his feet then, and they scramble back up to the top of the slide and through the opening, one after the other.

Hermione talks in a whisper as they walk, because there's something about the dark, nearly-deserted halls of the castle that make them both feel as though they're both students sneaking out of their beds once again. She describes her arrival at Hogwarts on September 1st, how Dumbledore and the four heads of house all requested that she step in to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Remus expresses bewilderment at the switch, also noting how peculiar it is that they didn't put her up in the living space adjacent to her new classroom. That said, he's quick to add, "But of course I'm very proud of you. You must be one of the youngest teachers Hogwarts has ever hired."

"It's only temporary," she points out as she stops him in front of her door.

"More of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors should think about their position that way," he jokes. When she only responds with a weak smile, he stops her as she tries to turn away to open the door. "Even if you're only teaching for a month, two months, six months more… just remember that Dumbledore would more likely teach the class himself than hire someone who he considered to be unqualified. So this… it's exciting."

"Right," Hermione agrees softly. But her smile grows a bit wider, because she knows that he makes a valid point.

Once inside, she offers Remus some tea, which he accepts gratefully. As she prepares their drinks, she glances over at him carefully—he's looking over a book that she left sitting on an end table. In the better light of her own room, she becomes aware of how thin he looks, how much more prominent the bags under his eyes have become. Far more than before he left, she looks at him and she can see the shadow of the worn professor who will come to teach at Hogwarts in her third year.

He glances up from the book and sees her watching him; an easy smile spreads across his face. "What?"

"I…" Hermione stammers for words for a few moments. _I'm scared to watch you become the man I met when I was thirteen_ , she doesn't say. Nor does she tell him, _I want to run away with you and escape everything bad that's going to happen_. But she thinks it.

And then instead, "I've missed you," she allows herself to whisper. "I worry about you."

"No need to worry," Remus rushes to reassure her. "But please, go ahead and miss me, because it'll make me feel a bit less pathetic when I miss the hell out of you."

Hermione smiles graciously. As she brings his tea over, she says, "Will you at least tell me a little bit about what you're doing so I know how to imagine you?"

Remus's smile doesn't fade at the question, but Hermione would be blind to miss the way his features go a bit stiff. "I don't… you don't want to hear about any of that stuff, love. It's all quite boring."

Somehow, this response doesn't faze her. And she's about to argue with him, but then something else occurs. "Oh! I'd forgotten until just now. Dumbledore gave me a message that he wanted me to convey to you."

"Oh?" His expression doesn't shift with the change of subject; he seems just as guarded as before.

For a moment, something about Remus's expression makes her feel like it might be better if she said nothing, or if she made something up. But she can't shake the feeling that if she disregards Dumbledore's request, he will somehow _know_ , and she doesn't need that. "He asked me to tell you that 'his suggestion still stands.' What's that supposed to mean? What suggestion?"

This is what finally does it—Remus stops smiling altogether, but he doesn't look angry, as Hermione had imagined might happen; instead, he looks deeply, deeply sad, his gaze shifting downward and mouth drooping into a frown. The bags under his eyes emphasize the look. "It doesn't matter. Thank you, though. You can tell him that this is for the best, alright?"

As frustrating as it can be, Hermione knows from experience that Dumbledore's suggested way of doing things is almost invariably the best way to do it, and she's on the verge of saying something to this effect when Remus claims his mug of tea and pecks her on the lips. "Thanks for the tea, Hermione. Now, I suppose I'll satisfy some of your curiosity about what I've been doing, but I have a question for you first."

Hermione doesn't miss the change in subject, but this is the first time she's seen Remus in three months, so she doesn't feel particularly compelled to get into an argument about something when she doesn't have all of the information. Instead, she follows his lead and sits down on her sofa, immediately curling up against him. "Go on, then."

"The full moon… it's on Christmas this year," he starts carefully. "But I'm thinking of going home to my parents' anyway. Some of the others actually spend the holidays with their families, so it wouldn't look strange if I'm gone for more than a day or two. And I was wondering…" He must know that Hermione has picked up on the gist of what he's saying by now, but he's endearingly nervous as he works his way up to saying, "Would you come with me?"

"Yes." Hermione glances down and notices that a new scar has formed across his forearm, and she tentatively reaches out to run a fingers over it. Her heart is warmed by the simple fact that he doesn't shy away from her touch. "Just say when."

Remus lets out a low laugh. "I've been fussing over inviting you for days, and you just say 'yes' like that."

"I'll never turn down a chance to see you," she murmurs.

He digests this in silence before taking a deep breath. "I think you'll like my dad."

"I'm sure I will," Hermione agrees gently. "Now tell me all about what you've been up to."

* * *

 **A/N: T** **hank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! I wanted to remind you that I've got a twitter on which I'm specifically chronicling the ups and downs of writing _Ancient Fading Lines_ , and also probably hinting at some little tidbits in the next few weeks because I'm too excited to keep my mouth shut. So if you want to check that out, I'm rubertgiles over there too. :)**


	20. Renewal

"I started off by traveling around between a few packs," Remus tells Hermione. "There are quite a lot around Britain. The Ministry tries to keep track of them, but Dumbledore speculated that they can't possibly know about them all and after living among them, I'd have to agree."

"How many packs did you meet?" she asks. Without meaning to, she finds herself whispering.

Remus smiles slightly, amused by this instinct, but he plows on. "I spent a while with four. I was going back and forth between a few at first because Dumbledore wanted me to get a better sense of where people's sympathies really lie. He obviously wants to diminish Voldemort's numbers as much as possible, but in this case… he acknowledged that if a pack heavily supported Voldemort, I would be wasting my time with them."

Neither of them points out that he would also be putting himself in much more danger if he remained in the company of such a pack for any extended period of time, but as he pauses briefly, Hermione wonders whether this thought is also on his mind.

Instead of mentioning it, though, she asks, "Where… where do they generally seem to be leaning?"

Though she was already anticipating the answer, Remus's expression darkens, leaving no doubt in her mind. "Toward Voldemort. Even if they're not outspoken, most of them are prepared to sit back and let the wizarding world as we know it die. A lot of the werewolves I met who support him… they're vicious, Hermione. They're proud to be mons—" He stops himself when he sees the way Hermione is staring him down. "Sorry, love. I don't… I'm not talking about myself. The way that they behave, though, I think the word's appropriate. They think it's their job to turn as many people as possible, and they see Voldemort as their chance to make that dream into a reality.

"Even the ones who don't want to be werewolves… A lot of them don't appreciate how most wizards treat them. Tensions have been running high there for a while, and Voldemort's used that to his advantage. Being surrounded by that sort of sentiment… it's honestly terrifying."

Hermione swallows sharply and smooths her hand over his arm. "Did… did anyone suspect that you were there on Dumbledore's orders?"

Remus scoffs. "I doubt I would be here if anyone thought that I had any sort of ties with Dumbledore. But they certainly thought that I seemed annoyingly sympathetic toward wizards, and most of the packs that I encountered were pretty vocal about their dislike for me as soon as that started to become clear."

"Not all of them?"

"Well, the pack I've been with for the past… two months or so is made up of more Muggles than most, so the dynamic is different. They've pretty much been planning to sit back and let the war run its course, but it was actually relatively easy to get a fair number of them to realize how dangerous Voldemort could be if he continues his rise to power."

Hermione leans back and away from Remus, looking at him in surprise. "Really? So does that mean you've… you've actually found some werewolves who want to help Dumbledore?"

Remus chuckles lightly, but his expression is dark. "Of course not. Plenty of them are scared, but the alpha and the others who have the pack's respect… they don't want to draw attention from Voldemort when he's not looking at them. Which is rather frustrating, considering that Dumbledore sent me on this mission partially because Voldemort has not been focusing much on the werewolves."

He falls silent, grimacing down at his lap. More than once, he opens his mouth and his lips seem to tremble toward speech, only for him to stop himself. Hermione waits patiently.

"I can't help but worry that I haven't done anything. Or that perhaps I've unintentionally escalated the situation—if it gets back to Voldemort that any werewolves are opposing him, he might turn his attention to them sooner. Most of the pack that I've befriended could be killed."

"But it won't be your fault!" Hermione exclaims. "If some of your friends refuse to join Voldemort and the Death Eaters kill them because of it… you can't blame yourself for that."

"Of course I can. I shouldn't, but I can, and you and I both know that I probably will."

Hermione stares at Remus sadly, running over several flashes of her memories of him from the future. She's long been at least cursorily aware of his tendency to fault himself for things over which he had little to no control, but for the first time, she considers just how much he will probably come to feel guilty about. And that's only within the snatches of his life that she knows about; who knows how much will happen to him that she can't begin to fathom?

"I suppose I do," she murmurs.

Remus gives Hermione a tentative smile and reaches up to brush her hair out of her face. "Do you want to hear more, or will you tell me now how you've been doing?"

"I haven't been doing anything. I teach, and I go to Order meetings. I miss you, and I miss my library. There's nothing more to tell. It feels like I'm just wasting time here. I wish I could have come along with you."

He blinks at her, struggling – and failing – to mask the pained expression that flickers across his features. "You don't mean that. You're better off not having to see that world, I promise."

"I'm better off when I'm with you," Hermione retorts.

Remus pulls her hands into his lap and looks down at their clasped fingers, chuckling. "I never thought I'd believe anyone who said that."

"You actually believe me?" That's a first—by this point, Hermione's so used to Remus arguing with her that she was nearly anticipating a row already.

He swallows hard. "I'm trying to."

She gives his hands a gentle squeeze. "That's a start, yeah?"

"It's a start," Remus nods, smiling just a bit.

For a few moments, they're both quiet. And then Remus says, "How are James and Lily?"

So Hermione catches him up on the Potters and the rest of his mates, and then on other Order operations. By the time they've finished chatting, it's after midnight and their teacups sit long forgotten. It's only when the conversation hits a brief lull that Hermione asks the question that she's been trying to push out of her mind.

"When do you have to leave?"

"I could probably stay until after breakfast," he tells her. "Does that sound alright?"

"Fine with me."

"Great. Then in the meantime… I'd quite like to snog you some more."

She can't help the wide grin that spreads across her face. "I thought you'd never ask."

They linger on her sofa for a little while, but it's not long before Hermione tugs Remus to his feet and pulls him into her bedroom. Despite the fact that Hermione has a full set of classes to teach the next day, she and Remus spend what feels like hours just re-familiarizing themselves with every inch of each other.

When he presses a kiss to her ribs that makes her giggle and grab for his hand, he smiles and sits up so that he can look her in the eye as he says, "You're so cute."

"Why are you talking when you could be kissing me?" she chides, although she's grinning all the while.

"I like having an excuse to talk about how lovely you are." Remus pauses for a moment before musing, "Or perhaps I just like the sound of my own voice."

Hermione rolls her eyes and swats at his arm. "I like the sound of your voice, too, but you know what I'm more interested in right now?"

Remus ducks down and kisses Hermione lightly on the lips. Even when he moves away, he only pulls back a few inches, just far enough that he can see Hermione squeeze her eyes shut and smile. "Yes, exactly. More of that, please."

"If you insist."

That said, Hermione's invoked silence is punctuated by consistent chatter—the only real indication that they're both aware that they need to make valuable use of every moment they have together.

"I like your hair longer like this," she tells him as she curls her fingers into the uncharacteristically long strands.

"Don't be daft," Remus scoffs. He stops kissing her neck so that he can look down at her. "It's started to tickle my neck. I hate it. It's just that hairstylists are rather hard to come by when you're living as a nomadic werewolf."

Hermione pouts. "I think it makes you look more handsome."

"Now hang on, that's not fair," he exclaims. "You can't say that when you're about to shag me. You're just trying to get me to keep it this way."

"Much more handsome…" she adds quietly, just to antagonize him.

"I'll grow it out as long as yours if you're not careful," Remus tells her.

"Of course you won't," Hermione laughs. "You'll probably have it cut within the week. But that's fine. I like you however you look, remember?"

"That's right. So you are daft, then." They smirk at each other affectionately.

It's a relief for Hermione that this is so easy. After so much time apart, the dynamic between them could have shifted, and she doesn't get any sense that that's happened. If anything, it seems like Remus is inching closer to her, which she finds rather remarkable, considering the fact that he's spent the past few months surrounded by other werewolves. He could have easily come back to her hating himself, but somehow he's avoided that.

No, not just somehow. She doesn't think it's too much of a stretch to imagine that it's probably because of her.

Even after a night of a great deal of serious conversation, both of them are smiling and giggling as they have sex. More than once, Remus causes Hermione to gasp and exclaim, "Oh, I've missed you," making him laugh each time.

To their delight, they come almost simultaneously. Hermione buries her face in Remus's shoulder as she moans, grazing her nails down his back and leaving pale white marks on his skin that will no doubt linger for a few days.

After a quick shower, they curl up together in Hermione's bed to sleep. Although they're both exhausted, they struggle to fall asleep. Again, they keep talking, saying mindless things because they missed being able to say mindless things.

"One of my mates…" Remus starts slowly. Quietly, because there's been a lull in conversation and he wants to make sure that Hermione's still awake. It's only when she hums curiously that he continues. "One of my new mates, I mean… I told him that I was going to visit my parents to celebrate my mum's birthday with them, and he didn't believe me."

"No?"

"No. He thought I seemed too happy, so he was convinced I was going off to get laid. I don't talk about dating anyone… most werewolves are lucky if they get along with their parents, so Dumbledore thought it might seem peculiar if I let slip that I have any particularly close relationships. So I have to downplay how much I care about you, James, Lily… everyone. But a fair number of them are convinced that I must be in a relationship."

Hermione considers this. They're lying in the dark, so she knows that he can't see her expression, but she thinks he must hear the amusement in her tone as she asks, "Were you so convinced that I'd agree to your visit that he was able to tell?"

"If you missed me anywhere near as much as I've missed you, I knew you would," Remus offers. "It's… it's no place for you, I stand by that, but I can't say I haven't considered what it would be like. Having you with me all the time again. If not living with a pack of werewolves, then… elsewhere." He falls silent rather abruptly, taking Hermione aback.

"You've thought about living with me?" she asks softly.

"Once or twice," Remus mumbles. "Has… has the thought ever occurred to you?"

Truth is, she imagines it nearly every day, but for the first time all evening, she pictures the future Remus with Tonks, and she falters, simultaneously reluctant to confirm that she feels the same way and unwilling to lie.

"Of course it has," she whispers at last. And she thinks he believes her, but she also suspects that he can sense her discomfort, because he doesn't push the subject.

* * *

 **A/N: T** **hank you, as always, for the faves/follows/reviews! As you can see, updates are slower—I'm currently hard at work on my grad school applications and senior thesis. But I promise I'm just as excited about this fic as I have been. I just don't have as much time to write it as any of us would wish.**


	21. The Prototype

"I can't believe Moony was able to get away for a few days and didn't even tell any of us," James grumbles.

Before Hermione can offer any comment, Lily smirks and asks, "Can't you? He didn't want to waste any time on us."

"Oh, please don't put it like that," Hermione exclaims, exasperated. "Remus would have loved to see you. It was just that he was only able to get away from his parents for a day."

"And he went to see you."

Hermione casts her gaze downward, unable to suppress a small smile. She didn't realize just how self-conscious she would feel about Remus's visit until she made plans to meet the Potters in Diagon Alley before the following Order meeting and realized that she'd promised to let them know if she heard from him.

Even as she feels self-conscious, though… Lily's right. Remus had one day to do anything, and he wanted to spend it with her. And something about that warms her heart.

"Do either of you know anything about the plans for the meeting?" Hermione asks, lowering her voice.

"No, none at all," Lily says.

James adds, "Which is peculiar. He usually gives us at least some idea of what to expect. Have you not even heard anything from McGonagall or anyone else?"

"I haven't," Hermione says quietly, and she's thinking in part of Dumbledore's relationship with Harry as she continues, "I get the sense that Dumbledore keeps everyone in the dark to a certain extent, McGonagall included."

"There's something to that," James agrees. "He's our best chance at stopping Voldemort, but I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that I wonder what he's thinking sometimes. Moody, Kingsley, Ted… they keep saying that he knows what's best, but…"

He trails off, and there's a moment when Hermione cannot imagine that anyone will venture to say what she knows they're all thinking. But then Lily breathes, "James, darling, if you're thinking of Remus…"

"Oh, do you disagree? You think it made sense for him to reach out to transient, potentially violent werewolves by sending a boy just out of school? We all know that Moony's competent, but Lily, you've told me that you don't think any of us are ready to go out and do anything much on our own, so I know you don't understand what Dumbledore was thinking."

Lily glances around surreptitiously. "We shouldn't be talking about this here."

James heaves a loud sigh. "Fine. I'm nearly done with my drink, then we can go. But I'm not dropping this."

And indeed, while Hermione and Lily attempt to make conversation, James stews silently, giving off the distinct impression that he will return to the subject as soon as possible.

She wishes that she could tell Remus just how much James is being like Harry right now. It would be endearing and comforting if it were about _literally_ anything else. As it is, James's questions cut deep. Ever since Remus came to see her, Hermione's also been wondering once more how much Dumbledore actually believes that Remus can help.

The moment they've left the Leaky Cauldron, James brings it up again, not even really expecting a reaction as he asks, "Doesn't he know anyone else? Literally anyone?" and, "The least he could have done was send someone along with him, someone who could at least be nearby so that he wouldn't be all alone. Padfoot or Wormtail or Jean…"

"He would have never sent me," Hermione mumbles.

James stops in the middle of a thought, looking to Hermione abruptly. "What do you mean? How do you know?"

"Oh, he…" Hermione hesitates and considers her options. In the past week or so, she's also found herself once again asking whether Dumbledore was trying to separate her and Remus by sending him away. But she doesn't want to voice this thought aloud to James and Lily because they wouldn't believe that there's any justification for her suspicions. She'd never actually allowed herself to suggest the possibility to Remus because even in her own head, it sounds paranoid.

"I just don't think he'd want Remus to be distracted," she says at last.

James scoffs. "You're probably right."

As they arrive at Order Headquarters, James almost immediately gets diverted and enters into a conversation with Alastor Moody. Meanwhile, Lily links arms with Hermione as they head into the meeting room. "I'm sorry about James," Lily says quietly. "He's just missing Remus. We all are, but I don't think he expected to worry about him as much as he does."

"I understand." Hermione tries her best to smile. "I'm sure Remus would be touched that he cares so much."

"Yes, he would," Lily agrees. Her smile, too, is lukewarm, almost sad. "He is… he is doing alright, though?"

Hermione runs over all that Remus told her, and finds that all that she can say is, "I think he's doing as well as he could be."

Lily grimaces. After a moment of silence, she asks, "Dumbledore _does_ have a good reason for sending Remus out on his own, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does," Hermione replies automatically.

Another extensive period of silence passes between them. It's only broken when Hagrid claims the empty seat beside Hermione and draws them into a conversation about the Hollyhead Harpies' recent win against the Chudley Canons, a subject change that's welcome to both young women.

James slides into a seat next to Lily as the rest of the Order begins to filter in. He makes a whispered comment: "It seems like everyone's here tonight. This is the first time that Kingsley and my parents have been here in over a month. They were talking to Dumbledore's brother, and I always thought that my parents were making him up."

"I guess tonight really is a big deal," Lily whispers.

Hermione finds her eyes drawn to the doorway just as Dumbledore arrives, and for a brief moment, it feels as though he's looking straight at her, too, as he grimaces just slightly.

"Good evening, everyone," he says as he takes a seat at the head of the table. He sounds tired, more so than any other time in Hermione's memory. "I thank you all for taking the time to join us this evening. I know that many of you have other obligations. We'll begin with updates on recent missions, I think. Kingsley?"

Kingsley has begun to keep an eye on the Muggle Prime Minister, as Hermione remembers he did during her own time. The key difference is that he is not doing so for the Ministry of Magic, so his report consists primarily of the lies that he has had to tell the Ministry, and of the lies that the Ministry has been telling the wizarding world about the Death Eaters' behavior toward Muggles.

"It's only getting worse," he tells them sadly. "Every time I see the Prime Minister, he has about a dozen new mysterious deaths to ask me about, things that our Ministry has been quick to hush up. Nearly all innocent Muggles… as far as I can tell, killed purely for sport. I've tried to reach out to their families, but it's difficult to keep up with them all."

Kingsley's words hang over them as Moody, Andromeda Tonks, and the Longbottoms deliver what little news they have about their own missions, even lingering once Alice has fallen silent.

Dumbledore leaves room for this, waiting for some moments before he clears his throat and says, "Thank you. Now, we have a few new matters to discuss, but I'd like to start with some information that my friend Elphias Doge has provided me with. In the past few weeks, the Minister, in coordination with Bartemius Crouch, has begun a series of discreet interrogations of arrested and suspected Death Eaters, entirely separate from the Wizengamot. I've no doubt that I was excluded intentionally. Crouch has never been particularly fond of me.

A few Order members chuckled at this, and Dumbledore smiled graciously before continuing. "Thankfully, Elphias has sat in on a vast majority of these interrogations as the recorder. Now, much of it has proven to be rather useless, but it seems that they have stumbled upon some rather valuable information quite by accident. A few weeks ago, Alastor apprehended a number of Death Eaters who made the mistake of attacking Arthur and Molly Weasley while he and Ted were visiting. One of them, Avery, is a member of Voldemort's inner circle."

Beside Dumbledore, McGonagall clears her throat. "Albus, as compelling as this exposition is…"

He sighs, more out of exasperation with himself than with the interruption. "Yes, Minerva, you're quite right. My apologies. It appears that the attack on the Weasleys is not going to be an isolated incident. Now that Voldemort's ranks have grown, he intends to direct his attention away from Muggles and attack other so-called 'blood traitors,' which includes many of the people sitting in this room."

More than a few people around the table begin to whisper, but Dumbledore talks over them. "My intention is not for you all to go through your days in fear. Rather, I wanted to reach out to as much of the Order as possible to ensure that everyone is on their guard. We just might be able to turn this situation to our advantage if we are prepared."

Dumbledore keeps talking, providing the Order with suggestions for how best to remain cautious. But Hermione's barely listening. All she hears, over and over, is that now, the Death Eaters have become more confident in their ability to attack other wizards.

Now, Remus is probably in even more danger.

* * *

For a few days, Hermione is able to think of little else but her increasing concern for Remus. She reaches a point where she's able to go through her days very much as normal, but there's a hardly a moment – even during class and at meals – when it's not on her mind, lurking behind every word that she speaks.

She wouldn't be able to determine the precise moment that her anxiety began to transform, but in the span of about an exhausting, sleepless week, Hermione finds that she's mostly just angry. For countless things. Angry with herself for ending up in the past, angry with Remus for following Dumbledore's orders so blindly, angry with Dumbledore for…

Well. Hermione's angry with Dumbledore for so many reasons, but somewhere along the line, she channels all of that into the fact that he sent Remus away for no justifiable reason that she can see. And he might have sent Remus away because of her.

Two weeks in a row, she avoids the Order meetings, hoping that she'll be able to shut off her exasperation.

And then, the week before the holidays, Dumbledore summons her to his office.

There's a moment, as Hermione first walks through the door, when she feels deeply inspired by the memory of Harry's exasperation with Dumbledore in their fifth year and somewhat compelled to mimic one of his tirades. But then Dumbledore gives her a sad, patient smile, and she loses her nerve as she remembers the many reasons that this man earned her deepest respect.

"Good evening, Professor," she says instead.

"Miss Granger. I hope you're well. Please, come sit."

She claims the seat across from him silently, aching to make small talk but at a total loss for things to say. He allows their silence to hang for a few moments as he considers her, perhaps as he considers his words. When he does speak, he's looking at some spot on the wall over her head, not at her.

"Do you ever find yourself tempted to describe the events of the future?"

Hermione's first instinct is to lie. As it is, though, she says, "Yes."

"I have considered on a few occasions whether I would be able to remain as silent about events as you have. In tenuous times like these… I imagine that a fair number of those who you encounter at Order meetings are mere ghosts to you."

"Yes, sir," she says, her voice low and shaking.

He closes his eyes and sighs. "You have been with us now for the better part of a year. And thought I don't believe I imagined it possible when Mr. Lupin first found you in the Great Hall, I have come to trust your judgment." Finally looking Hermione in the eye, he smiles just slightly as he adds, "I must say that I am looking forward to the day when you come to join us as a first-year."

Hermione blushes. "I appreciate that very much."

Dumbledore nods slightly, but then his expression grows somber once more. "That said, it would be remiss of me to refrain from telling you that this past weekend, I received an owl from my contact in the Department of Mysteries from whom I received all of the research relating to time travel. And as I believe you and I both suspected, it appears that they chose to keep some information to themselves."

"They… they did?" Hermione asks. She and Dumbledore haven't discussed the Department of Mysteries since the Order meeting over the summer, when she told him that she'd run out of research materials—it feels peculiar for him to be talking about it so in-depth once more. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I believe it means that either he or his superiors wanted to ensure that the elimination of the time turner's defects could be completed through our Department of Mysteries. I wish I could say that it had to do with more than a desire for recognition, but…" Dumbledore sighs. "I wager that my relationship with the Unspeakables will not be particularly cordial for quite some time as a result of this."

Hermione stares at Dumbledore, afraid to ask that question that's hanging in the air.

But he answers it when he reaches into a drawer of his desk and pulls out a box, setting it down on the surface between them. "However, they provided me with a gift, no doubt as an attempt at an apology. It seems they have developed enough prototypes that they are willing to let one go."

"Oh." She blinks down at the box. "But I… I don't want to leave."

Dumbledore is quiet for a few moments, then: "I have no intention of forcing you to go anywhere, Miss Granger. That said, I maintain that your place is in your own time—regardless of whatever precautions you might take, your presence here is too dangerous."

Hermione does her best to ignore the anger that's once again building in her gut. It would be easier to embrace her frustration if she weren't cognizant of the fact that there's a great deal of validity to Dumbledore's concern.

"Professor, you just complimented me for maintaining my silence about the future. Do you expect that to change?"

It takes Dumbledore several moments to formulate a response this time. Each second feels to Hermione like an eternity.

"Although I am aware of the plausible counterarguments, it is my belief that even though you remain on your guard, even though you have no intentions of affecting the events that will unfold… you have most likely already meddled with time in the most undiscernible ways, purely by not maintaining distance from the people and things of 1977. You have already left an indelible mark on the lives of many—myself included."

Here, too, he has a point, and Hermione is well aware that she should bite her tongue. But her next words spill out anyway, her irritation leaking through each syllable: "If you're referring to Remus…"

"Of course I'm referring to Remus Lupin." Dumbledore's eyes look genuinely sad, although his mouth forms only a fine line. "To all of his friends, as well, but of course your relationship with Mr. Lupin concerns me in particular."

She swallows hard. "Is that why you sent him away?"

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "You are asking me if I sent Mr. Lupin on a potentially life-threatening mission purely because I wanted to keep you apart."

Even as he says it, Hermione's aware that it sounds rather absurd. But she nods slowly and mumbles, "I know you've done worse."

"I imagine that's true," he sighs. "But no, Miss Granger. I did not. Although the fact that you feel the need to ask… Well. It seems that perhaps Remus Lupin is aware that your place is not here, even if you are not."

Hermione's mouth drops open just slightly as she nearly tries to stammer toward words, but she finds herself at a total loss. "What does that mean?"

"I'm afraid only Mr. Lupin can answer that." Dumbledore pushes the new time turner closer to Hermione before settling back into his chair. "I will say, once again, that I have no intention of forcibly sending you away; there will be a place for you here as long as you like. However, I still believe that I should entrust this device to you. I… do not believe that I possess the self-control with time travel that you have shown."

She nearly refuses. But she reaches out and pockets the box, her heart beating in her throat as she does so. "Is that all, Professor?"

"I believe so. Thank you, Miss Granger."

As soon as Hermione reaches her room, she shoves the time turner as far down into her trunk as it will go. No matter what Dumbledore believes, she can't shake the feeling that she's where she belongs. Here, with Remus.

But Dumbledore's words still linger with her as she drifts to sleep that night. Surely Remus knows by now. Surely he knows that she isn't going to leave him.


End file.
